Division
by mnemosynesque
Summary: Hermione and Blaise can't help but attract trouble. Too bad their arguments aren't their biggest problem anymore... Chapter 10: What have become of Blaise and Draco?
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This story's muse seems to be rather elusive, but after much reading, I think that I've FINALLY found where I'm going with this. This story has been up on my old account, but a fresh start (again) seems in order. So, the glorious Blaise Zabini (non-HBP compatible as this was written a while ago. Now we know Blaise to be a Muggle-hating, black boy, but that's just too bad) has made a reappearance into my imagination. So let us begin…

A/N x2: This is a revised chapter one, as I am going back and reshaping some of the chapters. The changes here are minor, just to make it flow better, but some chapters will have entirely new scenes in them, but you will be warned so you can get all the goodness out of this story!

------

**Division**

Mnemosynesque

Summary: Blaise Zabini really doesn't like to talk. One, people are stupid, and two, people scare him. So what was Professor Vector thinking when he partnered Blaise with his co-Head, the overly chatty and Gryffindor-ish Hermione Granger for the Ancient Runes project? Why couldn't he get paired with someone who ignores him? Nooooooo… He had to get her! And once Hermione gets the idea that they're friends, she's never going to leave him alone! As Blaise says himself, "The world sucks."

Rating: PG-13, for fairly strong language.

Disclaimer: Some things in life are simply unattainable. This would be one of them, unfortunately.

-------

**Chapter 1: O thou, my lovely boy**

_O thou, my lovely boy, who in thy power  
Dost hold Time's fickle glass, his fickle, hour;  
Who hast by waning grown, and therein show'st  
Thy lovers withering as thy sweet self grow'st;  
If Nature, sovereign mistress over wrack,  
As thou goest onwards, still will pluck thee back,  
She keeps thee to this purpose, that her skill  
May time disgrace and wretched minutes kill.  
Yet fear her, O thou minion of her pleasure!  
She may detain, but not still keep, her treasure:  
Her audit, though delay'd, answer'd must be,  
And her quietus is to render thee._

_-Shakespeare's Sonnet 126_

Blaise Zabini lounged in his usual desk in the back of the classroom, his unusually large frame spilling from the confines of his chair. His tall frame towered above nearly everyone, and his thin build lent to the idea that he would snap in half quite easily. "The Leaning Tower of Pisa," Draco Malfoy, one of the few people he could stand, had commented, also drawing on his Italian heritage.

"Wanker," he muttered under his breath. Although he and Draco had known each other for years, he was quite sure that there was something fundamentally wrong with that boy. "Complete nut case," he continued.

No one heard him. Though they rarely did. Even Theodore Nott, a fellow Slytherin who had shared a dormitory for the past seven years, hardly noticed him. Blaise was used to eyes sliding right over him. In fact, the only two people of his age that really seemed to know he existed were Draco Malfoy and Hermione bloody Granger, both who constantly pestered for consultation on homework, though Draco with reasons that were less than honorable. Granger, of course, with her bloody righteousness…

Blaise's eyes immediately flew to the front of the classroom where his bushy haired co-Head sat in rapt attention, quill flying as she wrote down what the professor was saying. He shook his head and his eyes unconsciously rolled as they always did when she came anywhere near him. He blew his curly black hair away from his eyes as he considered her.

_Bloody brilliant. But utterly wasted on her,_ he decided, once again falling into the habit of dissecting people. He was know as "the quiet kid" when he was known at all, but behind his eyes hid a detailed account of almost everyone he interacted with on a daily basis. He had even gone so far as to write it down in a journal; a very bad idea, of course (never leave anything written that could implicate you) but he thirsted for an analysis of everyone.

His eyes roved around the classroom. _Ah, Anthony Goldstein._ A Ravenclaw with about as little personality as a person could possibly have while still being human. That boy had absolutely no live in him. _Looks a bit like Malfoy, with that damn hair and pasty complexion. Bet he's the most boring person on the face of the earth._ There were only eight people in the class. Himself, Granger, Goldstein, Nott, Padma Patil, Hannah Abbott, Susan Bones, and bloody Ernie Macmillian, that bloody wanker. (It wasn't even the boy's particularly infuriating Hufflepuffle-ish nature that bothered Blaise—the boy was just an idiot and Blaise couldn't stand idiots.)

Tearing his eyes away from the pathetic excuse of a class, he refocused on Professor Vance, who was currently sitting on the edge of his desk looking quite excited. "As your N.E.W.T.s quickly approach, I would like to assign you an extended research project that will last nearly the whole year. This project is a practice for the one you will have to complete for the N.E.W.T.s test."

Blaise's attention returned fully to the squat teacher at the front of the room. He actually quite enjoyed Ancient Runes and looked forward to getting into some in-depth research. The majority of the class, however, did not seem so pleased.

"But," the professor continued. Blaise cringed mentally; Professor Vance's infamous _buts _never turned out favorably. "But you will get to work with a partner. I have assigned the partners-" He waited until he could speak over the class' groaning. "According to your level of proficiency in the class. Your partners are-"

Blaise closed his eyes and repressed the urge to emit a sigh of frustration. The only person that could ever top him in any class was…

He opened his eyes and found her staring back at him with a face that clearly was not pleased either. In fact, Blaise was surprised at how angry she looked. _Probably just upset that she couldn't do it for herself and get all the credit,_ he thought meanly. And it wasn't as if this was going to be fun for him either. They were _enemies_.

Well, Blaise really had to take that back. There had never really been a hate between the two, really just a strange feeling of dislike. They were just so opposite. She was very vocal about her beliefs, while Blaise would rather kill himself than speak in front of people. Plus, the whole Gryffindor/Slytherin rivalry just served to exacerbate the problem.

But they had always managed to hold a certain respect (albeit grudging) for each other. Both had ridiculous work ethic, and many nights shared in the common room had not left them any worse off.

_Oh, well, that came out wrong._

He once again blinked out of his thoughts as a piece of parchment was thrust at him. He looked up to the owner of the paper and saw Granger staring down at him expectantly. Gingerly he took the paper while avoiding eye contact, and began to read, his blue eyes moving quickly as he scanned the paper...

"_For centuries, runes have been used as a means of obtaining answers from a "Higher Source." From Norwegian and Icelandic study, to Anglo-Saxon, Viking, Norse and Germanic usage. Ancient Greeks and Romans also runic oracles. The runes have been around since the dawn of time, some research indicates as early as 250-150 BC._

"_Since you are familiar with runes, you know that many of the rune meanings repeat certain tidbits of information. For instance, you have been guided throughout nearly every stone to focus on meditation, visualization and positive thought, for that is the key to a successful future. Nothing in life is ever "etched in stone." You have free will and must direct your own destiny. We are always free to embrace or resist our Highest Good. Ultimately, it is up to you to take control of your future._

"_Knowing this, you are assigned the rune of Ehwaz, or movement, a horse and rider. It implicates shifts in your life and the growing strength of a personal relationship. Write a six foot essay on the implications of this rune and its importance in history. Be prepared to make a fifteen minute speech due after Christmas break. This project will count as 40 of your grade."_

Blaise looked up at Hermione, and she was surprised to see a definite essence of fear in his cerulean eyes. Having spent nearly a month living in close quarters with him, she couldn't remember the last time he had shown any weak emotions.

_Well, _any_ emotions, actually. He's the perfect Slytherin stereotype. Though he is very handsome. _Even proper Hermione wouldn't pretend to notice his dashing good looks. She was surprised, really, that more girls (like Parvati and Lavender) didn't notice him and throw themselves over him. Perhaps, vaguely, she remembered one of their many _long _girl talks involving him, but she couldn't be sure. She tried to ignore them as much as possible. Thank Merlin she didn't have to live with those two anymore.

"Bit intimidating, isn't it? And embarrassing," Hermione said, a flush rising to her cheeks. What had possessed Professor Vance to give them such a rune? The rune described the bonding of hearts and a true understanding, with a definite implication of the sexual side of these processes. Was this irony on their professor's part, or just cruel fate?

Blaise nodded, willing the fear from his visage as he swallowed. It was not the emotional implication of the rune that disturbed him. Public speaking made him want to either vomit or crawl into a hole and never come out. _Hell, I can't even tell Granger that and she's only one person… I am so screwed._

When Hermione finally came to the conclusion that Blaise had nothing to say, she dragged the nearest desk next to him and sat down. "I guess we should start by fully researching the rune and all of its meanings. Is that okay?"

Blaise nodded mutely, his mind still reeling.

"Where do you think we should start?" A pause. And no response from Blaise, who was still staring dazedly at the front of the room. It was rather disconcerting. "So you have any opinion at all?" Hermione was at her wit's end.

Blaise seemed to hear her this time, but merely shook his head.

"Merlin, Zabini! Why don't you speak up for once in your life? I don't see how you could have made Head Boy! I mean, no one likes you because you never say anything, just sit there and be all snotty!" Hermione clapped a hand over her mouth as she realised what she had said. "Oh, I'm sorry Zabini. I didn't mean it like that. You know, you just-"

"Yes you did," he said shortly as he stood and left at the dismissal from Professor Vance. He was gone before anyone else, and long before Hermione unfroze enough to go chasing after him.

"Okay, maybe I did," Hermione muttered angrily to herself as she gathered her books and shoved them violently into her satchel. "But that was easily the longest sentence you've ever said to me."

-------

After double potions, in which Hermione felt awful whenever she saw the tall, dark boy, Hermione trudged into the Great Hall for dinner. Spotting her raven and red headed friends, she headed towards the far end of the Gryffindor table that seemed to be specially saved for seventh years. She sat down next to Harry and Ron to try to enjoy her meal, although that was hard with the combined efforts of Ron's horrendous eating habits and her guilt.

"So, how was your day today Hermione?" Harry seemed to be in exceptionally good spirits today, a cheerful grin planted firmly on his face.

_Bastard._ Out loud she avoided the question. 'Why are you so happy all of the sudden?"

"Well, today on the Quiddich pitch we were flying around and when practice finally started Ginny came up with this great play and we practiced it a whole lot and--"

Hermione promptly tuned Harry out; any mention of Quiddich (or his _clear _infatuation with Ginny) made her want to scream. Instead, she felt her eyes being drawn across the hall to the Slytherin table where one Blaise Zabini sat alone, immersed in what looked like their seventh year Potion's book. Just as she glanced at him, he stood and, without a word, began to take long strides toward the giant wooden doors leading out of the Great Hall. Glancing over at Ron and Harry, who were still blissfully unaware of her ever waning interest, she stood up.

"I've got to go ask Zabini about our Ancient Runes project. I'll see you guys later." Hermione walked out of the hall without glancing back, knowing that it was entirely likely that neither Harry nor Ron had heard a word she had just said.

As she exited the Great Hall, she began walking towards their common room, figuring that was where he had gone. Sure enough, as she sped up her walk, she saw Blaise's back. "Hey Blaise! Wait up!"

He turned slowly, surprised that anyone would be chasing him down. His eyes clouded as he saw who it was, but he nevertheless waited while she caught up to him. As soon as she reached him, he began walking again, while she fell into step next to him.

"Look, I know we've never been… friends. I mean, I can hardly say we've been acquaintances, not that it's from lack of trying on my part… But we've got along pretty well because we both have the same goals." She took a breath, and Blaise was interested to note a trace of fear flit across her face. "But I really am sorry for what I said today in Ancient Runes. I was really out of order. I mean, I'm sure you have friends and all…" She trailed off lamely, obviously not knowing where to go from there. She looked up at him, and he remained impassive.

"Okay." As soon as he said this, he realised that it may not have been the most tactful thing to say. _Ah well, I've never been known for being particularly tactful now, have I?_

He could audibly hear her teeth grinding and her eyes flashed with annoyance. "Damnit Zabini! I try to be nice, and I admit I was wrong and all you can say is 'okay'? For someone so brilliant, you're really lacking in some important social skills. I mean, what's your problem? Even Ron in his most ridiculous stages isn't this inarticulate."

Blaise continued to stare at her, but she swore there was a slight twitch to his lips. "I can speak. I generally don't feel the need to, that's all. I mean, I'm not dumb or anything. And please never compare me to that redheaded idiot."

A slow smile spread across her face. His voice was deep and mellifluous, something Hermione had never garnered from the short bursts of speech she had heard before. "You have a beautiful voice. You should use it more often." He was surprised, to say the least, but skillfully kept that sentiment from his face. Hermione, judging from the horrified glow spreading across her cheeks, felt just about the same way, but just couldn't keep it off of her face.

Blaise felt a small rush of confidence through him, even if he didn't show it outwardly. No one had ever paid him that sort of compliment. It was… nice. He felt as if he should have a reply, but he stopped himself except for, "Unity."

Hermione looked up, confused, but realised that he was only saying the password to their common room. "Thanks," she muttered, still not making eye contact with the tall boy. She stepped through the portrait and immediately put her books down on the large table in the center of the room and sat. She was surprised when Blaise followed her lead, and it must have shown on her face.

He pulled out his Ancient Runes binder and showed it to her, his eyebrows raised in a silent question. Following his lead, she nodded without a word, unwilling to meet his eyes. She immediately immersed herself in the text of her book, but was startled when Blaise handed her a parchment filled with detailed notes.

She read through them, amazed at the detail and insight. "Well, I can see how you became Head Boy. But," she added, plastering on her face a smirk that surprised Blaise, "your handwriting is horrible."

He glared at her, then quirked his odd, not-quite-a-smile smile. She looked back down at her notes, but once in awhile she would peek up at him and find him looking at her, as if analyzing her. His hair fell gracefully in his eyes, and with a strange pang in her heart she realised that he reminded her of Sirius. But, no, Sirius didn't have the strong jaw line, or the olive complexion, or the azure almond shaped eyes that Blaise made work so perfectly.

She smiled slightly, feeling her face heat against her will, but somehow she felt no remorse about studying this… god. He really was a superb piece of work, she thought objectively as if viewing a perfect Greek sculpture. Sighing slightly, she looked back down at the notes and continued to read. It was strangely relaxing, and for the first time this year she felt at ease with her mysterious counterpart.

As she neared the end of his notes on the Ehwaz rune, he burst the silence. "I like Wednesdays." She looked up at him incredulously and began to giggle. _Where did that come from?_

"T-that was so r-r-random," she managed to choke out between giggles. "You don't speak to me, but you suddenly come up with that? I really do wonder what's flashing through your head."

_Too much to comprehend. I doubt anyone else could ever understand,_ he thought wryly to himself. He rolled his eyes at the still giggling Hermione. _Why do girls giggle? It's so pointless_. "Well, I do like them," he said in his defense, feeling slightly ridiculous, but also in the back of his mind, as if he could laugh at himself.

_What a novel concept. Not taking myself seriously?_

Finally managing to restrain herself, Hermione took a deep, calming breath and asked, still with a grin on her face, "How did you come about this startling revelation? And why?"

"Well, I forgot what day it was. Then I realised we had Potions today so it's a Wednesday, and then I thought 'hey, that comes from the Norse god Odin, who is also known as Wodan to some.' I mean, I was just thinking that because runes were used in the Scandinavian countries and that reminded me of Odin, and then, well, yeah."

Hermione looked at him with a mixture of shock and amusement. "That's more than you've ever said to me in the six years that we've 'known' each other. Who knew that I would ever get to see Blaise Zabini babble about a certain day of the week?"

He looked down at his hands, his usually impassive face slightly flushed when he realised what he had done. _Oh Merlin, I can't believe I just said that. I'm an idiot. Well, it's not my fault I hate talking_.

Hermione knew she had said the wrong thing when he wouldn't meet her eye or speak, but if the poor boy could take a joke then what could she do about it? But she did feel bad as she looked at the embarrassed boy."Sorry," she apologized to him for the second time that day.

He looked up in surprise. He had not been expecting or looking for an apology. He tilted his head and looked at her in his strange, penetrating, analytical way again, as if trying to determine the veracity of her statement. Finally he nodded, a if deciding something. "I was born on a Wednesday," he said quietly, almost in a whisper, as if he were imparting a great secret to the bushy haired girl sitting across the table from him.

"'Wednesday's child is full of woe_',_" she recited, thinking back on the nursery rhyme she had been taught as a child. "It's an old Muggle nursery rhyme," she clarified for the obviously confused Blaise.

"When were you born?" His voice was low, but again reminded Hermione of music. He leaned forward, showing his obvious interest and Hermione had never felt so… wanted. With Harry and Ron it had been a given that she would always be there to talk to if they needed her, but Blaise's body language seemed to say '_I really am interested in what you're saying'_.

"I was born on a Friday. 'Friday's child is loving and giving'"

Blaise somehow found that funny and chuckled softly. Hermione feigned a look of shock. "What? A Slytherin with a sense of humour? That's outrageous!"

Blaise caught her eye, once again serious. "It's just that Friday is associated with Venus, and Freya- the Norse goddess of love and fertility. Perhaps," he said with a glint of humour in his eyes, "you can see where I would find that very ironic."

"Well, thank you Mr. Know-it-All. I hope you know that I am loving and giving! And," she lowered her voice, forcing Blaise to lean closer, "and I know all about love."

He blinked slowly, and a smirk formed on his perfect lips. A full on smirk. A smirk that could make even Draco Malfoy proud, and could definitely scare the living daylights out of Hermione Granger, who had spent her life at Hogwarts avoiding smirks like that, which only led to teasing and torment.

She smiled weakly, the feeling of comfort between them pulled away as quickly as it had been imparted on her. She fumbled for an adequate excuse, finally settling on just, "I-I'm going to go to bed. We'll work on this tomorrow?"

Blaise nodded, confused, but did nothing to stop her as she headed up the stairs to her room. He wondered about that girl, nearly as strange as himself.

------

Hermione woke the next morning very early as she usually did. She showered quickly and took little time getting ready. After shuffling down the stairs, she saw that the clock read _7:30_. It was over an hour until the first classes of the day began. She sighed, not wanting to spend most of her breakfast sitting in the Great Hall alone (there was no way Harry or Ron would get there anytime before 8, and she didn't think she could deal with anyone else today).

Letting out another little painful sounding sigh, she decided to wait in the common room for a while before heading downstairs. Just as she was about to settle down with her potions textbook (a little pre class cramming, as usual), she heard the stairs creak and saw a tousled Zabini padding down the stairs, shoeless.

She almost smiled at the sight, but once again remembered the fear of last night. Her irrational side told her that anything that reminded her of Malfoy in any way could not be a good thing. Therefore, the "brave" Gryffindor chose to flee, rather than fight, so she gathered her things up once again and fled to breakfast, dooming herself to a long, lonely breakfast that morning.

Oh well. It was not as if Hermione Granger was not used to spending quality time with books rather than human beings.

Through all this, Blaise remained in the middle of the staircase looking very sleepy and very confused. Finally he seemed to shake himself awake and muttered a very belated, "Good morning to you too."

-------

A/N: The Ancient Runes information was all looked up, so it is actually true. (It's quite an interesting subject, if you're interested in strange things like that.) So, I'd love a review (not-so-subtle hint) to get feedback. So leave one. And we'll be cool.


	2. Chapter 2

-1Hullo, hullo! I'm so happy that I've gotten this chapter up so quickly! Yay for me! Anyway, in this chapter you'll learn a little more about both Blaise and Hermione through their own little introspections, and they'll both learn a bit about each other near the end of the chapter.

Wow! I'm so surprised I finished this chapter! I kept coming upon great Blaise/Hermione stories and I kept getting distracted! Damn my writing ADD (once again). Well, anyway, this chapter isn't all that action packed. Just a night meeting with a bit of Romeo and Juliet. Interested?

Oh, and as you can see below, I've got a sonnet. (Shakespeare's 13th) that I'm working into the story, or rather it just sets the scene for the chapter.

Okay, I'll shut up! Enjoy!

------

**Division**

Mnemosynesque

Summary: Blaise Zabini really doesn't like to talk. One, people are stupid, and two, people scare him. So what was Professor Vector thinking when he partnered Blaise with his co-Head, the overly chatty and Gryffindor-ish Hermione Granger for the Ancient Runes project? Why couldn't he get paired with someone who ignores him? Nooooooo… He had to get her! And once Hermione gets the idea that they're friends, she's never going to leave him alone! As Blaise says himself, "The world sucks."

Rating: PG-13, for fairly strong language.

Disclaimer: Some things in life are simply unattainable. This would be one of them, unfortunately.

-------

Chapter 2: **Deny That Thou Bear'st Love to Any**

"_For shame! deny that thou bear'st love to any,_

_Who for thyself art so unprovident._

_Grant, if thou wilt, thou art beloved of many,_

_But that thou none lovest is most evident;_

_For thou art so possess'd with murderous hate_

_That 'gainst thyself thou stick'st not to conspire._

_Seeking that beauteous roof to ruinate_

_Which to repair should be thy chief desire._

_O, change thy thought, that I may change my mind!_

_Shall hate be fairer lodged than gentle love?_

_Be, as thy presence is, gracious and kind,_

_Or to thyself at least kind-hearted prove:_

_Make thee another self, for love of me,_

_That beauty still may live in thine or thee."_

Sonnet 13

Blaise lay on top of his sheets, staring blankly at the green canopy above him, feeling utterly humiliated about the ridiculous speech he had just uttered in the common room below. I like Wednesdays! Wow, now I know why I never speak. That just had to be the first thing that popped out of my mouth! I'm daft. That has to be the reason. There just must be something wrong with me.

He sighed quietly, knowing full well that he was not crazy. He didn't like to brag, but he was the most brilliant wizard in this school, but was always just a point off of Granger. And he was completely sane- even after living in a dormitory for Draco Malfoy for six years. His lack of speaking had nothing to do with his lack intellect or sanity. Only years of therapy can cure me now, I suppose, he thought, an unseen wry smile gracing his face.

And as much as he liked to pretend that he lurked unseen through the schools, he had heard the rumours going around about him. The females of the school seemed to think he was very busy behind closed doors. And darling Draco never failed to point it out to Blaise either.

His face coloured at the thought. Yet another point that made him less talkative.

He had always been a quiet young boy, but there was more to it than that. His lack of speech (fear of it more likely than not, but you would never hear him admit that) had something else behind it. He cringed inwardly just thinking about the incident…

_He was about nine, he supposed, maybe ten. He remembered how tense everyone in the house had been for the past weeks and he couldn't figure out why. Even Sylvia, the head cook for the Zabini family, seemed nervous and on edge, and she was the happiest person Blaise had ever known._

_Finally, he had gotten fed up with not knowing what was going on and decided to find out for himself._

_He couldn't particularly remember why he had known his parents had been speaking of what he wanted to hear, but he remembered his mother and father conversing in low tones in the library and knew he had to hear it. Unbeknownst to them, he had crept into the room, cunningly hiding behind shelves upon shelves of books, and listened to their hushed conversation. He couldn't hear all of their words, but he did get the general gist: there had been rumours of Death Eaters re-converging, in hopes of finding and restoring He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named to full power again._

_Before he could stop himself, he put himself in his parents' line of vision and said very clearly, "I never want to be a Death Eater."_

"_What?" His mother, his beautiful mother, with her dark skin and the same curly, black trademark Zabini hair, looked on at her son in complete and utter shock. "What did you say?" His mother, so normally a loud Italian woman, had lost her voice down to a near whisper._

"_I think that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is a very bad person. I like Sara. I don't want to kill her when I get older." Sara was one of his best friends, a muggle girl of about the same age as him that he had known nearly all of his life. They had met when they were both three and a bond immediately formed. He tried to keep in contact when he went away to "St. Randolph's Boarding School", but curiously she never replied. When Blaise returned home after his first year at Hogwarts, her house was empty._

_His father, normally so calm and composed, stood up, his rage obvious. "Never speak out against the Lord!" he bellowed, voice reverberating through the open room. Blaise had never heard him speak so loudly. "A Zabini does not take sides. They regress into the back, never saying a word, and stay out of trouble. This is how we have survived over the years. Never commit, Blaise! Never commit!" He took a deep breath, his chest heaving as he glared furiously at the covering boy. "You'd do well to keep your mouth shut, boy," he said in a much softer tone, "we don't want to lose you."_

_Blaise nodded mutely when his father asked him if he understood. He scurried from his parents when he was dismissed, his mind running, but he never made a sound._

Blaise sighed quietly. He had not spoken to his parents for a week after that, and later still never spoke unless directly spoken to. He had seen the fear and disappointment in his father's eyes, and even as Blaise grew up and realised that he had an irrational fear, he really couldn't help it.

At least Granger didn't completely smear me for being a complete idiot. But it really didn't seem like a Granger thing to do- completely make fun of him for his weakness. He sighed, there goes that damn irrational fear again. It really just wasn't fair. He was supposed to be a strong, sly, cunning, fearless Slytherin. Where had that side of him gone?

Sighing again, he swung his legs over the side of the bed, wincing as his bare feet touched the ice cold stone floor. Blindly he groped around until his hands fell on his slippers. He sipped them on and shuffled down to the common room, trying to be as quiet as possible so as not to wake his slumbering partner.

Little did he know that he had no need to be so silent; Hermione was awake as well, her mind whirling as quickly as Blaise's.

She was recalling the short even that had sent her scurrying for her warm, safe bedroom.

_He blinked slowly, and a smirk formed on his perfect lips. A full on smirk. A smirk that could make even Draco Malfoy proud. It was almost frightening, in Hermione's eyes. It served as a reminder that Blaise was still a Slytherin._

She shuddered at the strange feelings she had earlier that night. She had thought Blaise funny, albeit a little strange, but that smirk had thrown her completely off. He had seemed so un-Slytherin it had frightened her when she was pushed back into reality.

She sighed silently. She was being so hypocritical. Here she was, the main proponent of inter-house good relations being frightened by a Slytherin. And what seemed like a brilliant, kind, and safe Slytherin! She took a deep breath, telling herself that she would make it up by being extra nice to Zabini the next time she saw him.

Still… It pained her to admit it, even to herself, but whenever the Slytherin was around, well, any Slytherin for that matter, she felt frightened and vulnerable. She blamed it partly on her normal insecurity, but also the unending derision coming from the entirely unhelpful Draco Malfoy.

'_Look at him blubber!'_

_Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle had been standing just inside the castle doors, listening._

'_Have you ever seen anything quite as pathetic?' said Malfoy. "And he's supposed to be our teacher!'_

_Harry and Ron both made furious moves toward Malfoy, but Hermione got there first—SMACK!_

_She had slapped Malfoy across the face with all the strength she could muster. Malfoy staggered. Harry, Ron, Crabbe, and Goyle stood flabbergasted as Hermione raised her hand again._

'_Don't you dare call Hagrid pathetic, you foul—you evil"_

'_Hermione!' Ron said weakly, and he tried to grab her hand as she swung it back._

'_Get off Ron!'_

_Hermione pulled out her wand. Malfoy stepped backward. Crabbe and Goyle looked at him for instructions, thoroughly bewildered._

'_C'mon,' Malfoy muttered, and in a moment, all three of them had disappeared into the passageway to the dungeons._

As inadequate as Hermione felt at the moment, she had to grin. That was probably her crowning moment. How had she been that self assured when she was only in her third year? She supposed that the longer she took his criticism, the more insufficient she felt she became. And he had only gotten worse in later years, especially after his father was sent to Azkaban. Sixth year had been hell.

But, she argued to herself, Blaise never made comments like that.

It was true. She found herself hard pressed to compare Blaise Zabini and Draco Malfoy and find many, if any, similarities. She smiled slightly; perhaps she had at least one ally in Slytherin.

_"At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in," said Hermione sharply. "They got in on pure talent."_

_The smug look on Malfoy's face flickered._

_"No one asked your opinion, you filthy little Mudblood," he spat._

_Harry knew at once that Malfoy had said something really bad because there was an instant uproar at his words. Flint had to dive in front of Malfoy to stop Fred and George jumping on him, Alicia shrieked, "How dare you!", and Ron plunged his hand into his robes, pulled out his wand, yelling, "You'll pay for that one, Malfoy!" and pointed it furiously under Flint's arm at Malfoy's face._

Hermione cringed.

And of course that memory had to come up. The very first time Malfoy had used that word on her. She hadn't even known what it meant at first. Sad, how that one word would so undermine her confidence whenever she saw Malfoy.

It simply wasn't fair!

She was the smarted witch here! Why should a stupid git like Malfoy get her down? He wasn't even Head Boy. He had nothing over her.

A rush of self-righteous anger flooded through her body. She resolved that she wouldn't let Malfoy get her down. She was done feeling second rate to that stupid prat!

She sat straight up, realising that her bout of soul searching and revelation had left her completely awake. Sighing, she stood up, happy for her thick socks, even though she could still feel the cold floor through them. Silently, she swung her door open and walked down the stairs into the common room.

She was surprised to find her co-Head had the same idea.

Apparently he hadn't heard he come down; he was still engrossed in the paperback book in his lap. Hermione took the chance to really study him.

His hair was nearly shoulder length and curled slightly, but it seemed to be sticking out in odd places, obviously from tossing and turning. She could see his azure eyes flickering back and forth as he read, the fire making them glisten. He really was beautiful. He looked as if he could be a Greek statue- not really human; flawless.

She snapped out of her reverie and cleared her throat. He whirled around, eyes wide. When he saw her, though, he smiled rather sleepily, once again reminding Hermione with a pang of Sirius.

She made her way over to the couch and sat next to him. To her great amusement and delight he was reading the book she had left on the coffee table this afternoon, Romeo and Juliet. "Shakespeare? I didn't realise you were into Muggle literature."

He nodded, feeling almost uncomfortable at how close she was sitting. This feeling only intensified as she leaned over him to see where he was. He was not one for affection; not like those Gryffindors were. He had heard many a rumour of an orgy or two happening in their common room, but he was nearly certain it wasn't true. But he wondered… Had the Head Girl ever… No! He forced his mind back to whatever Hermione was saying.

"…_Wilt thou be gone? It is not yet near day. It was the nightingale, and not the lark, That pierc'd the fearful hollow of thine ear. Nightly she sings on yond pomegranate tree. Believe me, love, it was the nightingale_._"_

Blaise was grateful for the semi darkness. This was not a situation he was used to or comfortable with. He had the brief sensation that he was somehow living Draco Malfoy's life. It seemed very Draco-ish had a girl leaning halfway across him reciting love poetry. He had, not surprisingly, seen that happen more than once in the Slytherin common room. Obviously it was not something he was used to, or particularly comfortable with.

Sighing, he licked his lips, deciding to play along with the angel-like girl beside—no, over—him.

"_It was the lark, the herald of the morn; No nightingale. Look, love, what envious streaks Do lace the severing clouds in yonder East. Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops. I must be gone and live, or stay and die_," Blaise countered in Romeo's voice, happy to have the words already laid out masterfully before him. They slipped from his lips easily that way without him having to think about it, or worry they might not come out right.

No room for mistakes.

"_Yond light is not daylight; I know it, I. It is some meteor that the sun exhales To be to thee this night a torchbearer And light thee on the way to Mantua. Therefore stay yet; thou need'st not to be gone._"

Hermione smiled softly. Even though she could never be construed as a romantic sort of girl, Shakespeare had always had a certain allure to her. It all seemed like it could be possible, especially in Hogwarts, with the grand castle and all the magic around.

"_Let me be ta'en, let me be put to death. I am content, so thou wilt have it so. I'll say yon grey is not the morning's eye, 'Tis but the pale reflex of Cynthia's brow; Nor that is not the lark whose notes do beat The vaulty heaven so high above our heads. I have more care to stay than will to go. Come, death, and welcome! Juliet wills it so. How is't, my soul? Let's talk; it is not day."_

Hermione chanced a look at the dark boy beside her as he spoke softly. She realised with a start that he was reciting it from memory as well. Finding this somehow unnerving, she cleared her throat nervously before she began to speak. "_It is, it is! Hie hence, be gone, away! It is the lark that sings so out of tune, Straining harsh discords and unpleasing sharps. Some say the lark makes sweet division; This doth not so, for she divideth us. Some say the lark and loathed toad chang'd eyes; O, now I would they had chang'd voices too, Since arm from arm that voice doth us affray, Hunting thee hence with hunt's-up to the day! O, now be gone! More light and light it grows."_

"_More light and light- more dark and dark our woes!_ How tragic," Blaise remarked in a bland voice. He chanced a look at Hermione. She looked blissfully unaware that she was reciting poetry with a normally silent Slytherin.

"Do you not speak because you are afraid the wrong things will come out?" She appeared to have woken from her trance.

"I guess that's a pretty good summary." His mind flew back to his father's outburst, a scowl gracing his flawless face (something Hermione didn't fail to notice). "Well, that and a Zabini is never supposed to let anything show. We're supposed to be cosmically neutral, however the fuck that happens."

"Oh."

"After all that prose all you can say is 'oh'? Not very prolific for having such a brilliant mind." Blaise smirked at the shocked look on Hermione's face. Contrary to popular belief, he had a dry wit to rival just about anyone.

"Blaise Zabini! I had absolutely no idea you had any humourous bone in your body. Yet here you sit, making sarcastic comments! I'm impressed!"

"You should be."

"What else can the great Blaise Zabini do?" He didn't fail to notice her body shift to face him, the strap of her crimson tank top slipping casually from her shoulder

He licked his lips at the picture of seduction that the virginal Hermione Granger exuded forth.

"Oh," he said in a deep voice even he was surprised to hear, "I can do a lot of things. Need a demonstration?"

He was rewarded by her cheeks flaring a particularly bright shade of red. "N-no, that won't be necessary."

_Was he just flirting with me?_

_Did I just flirt with her?_

_Is Blaise even capable of flirting?_

_How did that happen?_

_Weird, _Hermione thought, but pushed the thoughts out of her mind and tried to control her blushing. To take the focus off her blush, she grabbed the copy of Romeo and Juliet from Blaise's hands.

"Why are you reading a Muggle book like this?"

He shrugged. "It was the first thing I came across."

"_O, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?" _Hermione quoted.

Blaise grinned. "_What satisfaction canst thou have tonight?_"

Hermione matched his smile. Once again she was acutely aware of how brilliant this boy really was. Was it really true that she was having such an intellectual conversation with a boy? Or was it a dream?

She had grown so used to lowering her standards for Harry and Ron. To put it bluntly, she thought on a higher level than them and she always yearned for some form of intelligent conversation. She thought she should be more surprised that this intelligence came from a Slytherin, but he was the Head Boy.

"Well?"

"Oh, well, how do you know Shakespeare?"

"I'm a pureblood, not a cretin," he replied sardonically. "My family is blatantly neutral, and they prefer a mix of Muggle and magical education for a well rounded person."

"Very wise." Hermione smiled. She was liking him more and more. "You know, this is probably the most intellectually stimulating conversation I've had in years. And only because it involves Shakespeare. Sad, isn't it?"

"Quite," Blaise agreed. "But with Potter and Weasley, you can't really expect it, can you?"

She sighed. "No, unfortunately not."

Blaise sighed in relief. He had heard her slaps hurt like hell. Not that he would ever say that particular sentence out loud. He was threatened under penalty of death by one Draco Malfoy. He had nearly died the first time had heard _that_ particular story from their third year. What he would have given to see that moment…

"So why aren't you like other Slytherins? Or at least a majority? Okay, why aren't you like Draco Malfoy?"

He looked at her curiously. "How do you mean?"

"You don't call me names, or threaten to hurt my friends or I, or make me feel horribly frightened or uncomfortable around you."

"I'm special." He turned toward her, an almost whole smile on his face.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Think a bit highly of ourselves, do we? No, seriously."

The almost grin settled into a thoughtful frown. "I don't know. I just think it's kind of detrimental to go through life putting people down. It obviously shows a very low self esteem level, but also leaves you isolated, which is entirely unhelpful in getting anywhere in life."

Hermione nodded. "But never talking? How's that different Blaise?" His name on her tongue surprised him for some reason—such intimacies were almost unknown in the Slytherin common room.

The bare truth of that struck Blaise like a slap in the face. "I'm not sure," he admitted, "but at least it doesn't give you the number of enemies that cruelties earn you. I think that's important."

"Really? I would think that a Slytherin would pride himself on the number of enemies he can attain in his life."

"Well, remember, I'm not your average Slytherin, am I?" He grinned over toward her, and suddenly realised he was very tired. "Well, I'm going to head off to bed. This conversation has been… enlightening."

"Okay. Good night."

As he walked slowly up the stairs, he ruminated on the previous half hour or so. At least she seemed to understand him. Maybe she wasn't as annoying as he had originally thought. Well, maybe. There was a definite chance that she was; she was a Gryffindor and a girl and Hermione bloody Granger and that certainly counted for something.

But perhaps…

-------

So we learn a bit more about Blaise and Hermione. And get to read some Shakespeare while we're at it. Hooray! So, look forward to the next chapter which, of course, is going to be tons of fun!

Again, please be a doll and review!


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Welcome back, dear reviewers/readers (hopefully both!) for a new edition of Division. I hope that you all enjoy this chapter, because it was really, really fun to write for some reason. So without further ado…

--------

**Division**

Mnemosynesque

Summary: Blaise Zabini really doesn't like to talk. One, people are stupid, and two, people scare him. So what was Professor Vector thinking when he partnered Blaise with his co-Head, the overly chatty and Gryffindor-ish Hermione Granger for the Ancient Runes project? Why couldn't he get paired with someone who ignores him? Nooooooo… He had to get her! Well, okay, it really isn't that bad. At least they'll get a good grade on the project. As Blaise said himself, "Maybe she's not so bad."

Rating: PG-13, for fairly strong language.

Disclaimer: Some things in life are simply unattainable. This would be one of them, unfortunately. This is J. K. Rowling's. I haven't got a chance of owning it, so screw you.

--------

**Chapter 3: So are you to my thoughts as food to life…**

"_So are you to my thoughts as food to life _

_Or as sweet-season'd showers are to the ground; _

_And for the peace of you I hold such strife _

_As 'twixt a miser and his wealth is found; _

_Now proud as an enjoyer, and anon _

_Doubting the filching age will steal his treasure; _

_Now counting best to be with you alone, _

_Then better'd that the world may see my pleasure: _

_Sometime, all full with feasting on your sight, _

_And by and by clean starved for a look; _

_Possessing or pursuing no delight, _

_Save what is had or must from you be took. _

_Thus do I pine and surfeit day by day, _

_Or gluttoning on all, or all away."_

_-Sonnet 75_

Blaise awoke with a start the following Saturday. Looking blearily at the clock he was startled to find it was already eight a.m. He _never _got more than six hours of sleep. He smiled slightly, surprised but glad of the unusual respite. Swinging his legs over the side of his bed, he landed his feet in his slippers on the first try and shuffled over to his closet.

Still half asleep, he grabbed a dark t-shirt and black trousers and slipped them on, all the while trying to remember what he had to do today. There was _something_; he just couldn't think of it at the moment.

When he was quite sure he couldn't remember, he gave up that mental battle to head down stairs. Before he left his room, he grabbed a leather bound journal laid carefully on his immaculate desk, and slipped out the door.

Settling himself on the couch nearest to the warm, crackling fire when he reached the common room, he took a quill from the spine of the journal and opened it to the page he had been working on earlier in the week. But just as he put the tip of the pen to the paper, his stomach growled loudly and he realised just how hungry he was.

Sighing, he decided to just stash the book in a high shelf of the common room instead of walking all the way back up to his room. He put it on the highest shelf in the most out of the way corner, next to what he presumed to be some sort of sleazy romance novel from the cover. Satisfied, he made his way down to breakfast…

Not five minutes later, the ever early riser Hermione Granger returned to their common room from breakfast and, with a contented sigh, began to scan the book shelves for a morning read. Remembering a book she had stowed away in the back corner, she made her way to the far wall. She blushed at the thought.

A Passionate Encounter was not the usual book she would be reading, but Miss Virginia Weasley had sent it to her as a birthday present and made her promise she would read it before Christmas. Apparently it had been, ah, _thoroughly_ perused by the littlest Weasley, along with many others of its kind.

Hermione shook her head. Thank Merlin Ron didn't know what a little wench his sister was, or he would absolutely go into fits. If he knew even a quarter of what his little sister was doing to the boys he shared a dorm room with, she would be sent to a nunnery before you could say "_Finite Incantum_."

She giggled at the unexplained rush of excitement as she reached for the book, remembering the conniption she'd nearly had when Ginny first introduced it to her.

"_Jeremy Waith, handsome sex god of the bland Archer Court, would unleash his powerful art of seduction on the unsuspecting neighboring women. Who will be seduced first? Could it be old Missus MacFee, who as well as loving cats has a strong penchant for young, tanned men? Or perhaps the virginal Violet Bloom, the quiet, pretty, twenty-something from across the road?…"_

And on it went, full of lust and pure idiocy. _Though_, Hermione had to admit to herself as she stood on her tiptoes to reach the forbidden book, she was quite looking forward to it. But her hand stopped just from touching the spine as she noticed something potentially more interesting. Nestled comfortably beside her book was a large black, leather journal that definitely hadn't been there before.

Her natural curiosity took over and she grabbed the leather bound book instead. She apologised silently to Ginny as she once again postponed the inevitable. Sighing and putting it out of her mind, she settled down on the chair positioned directly in front of the fire ready to pour through a book-- shockingly-- that she had never seen, much less read.

Flipping open to a random page, Hermione was shocked to find the words _Harry Potter_ written in Blaise Zabini's excruciatingly bad cursive. Her eyes immediately flew to the hastily scrawled paragraphs below, but in the back of her mind she knew that she probably shouldn't be reading this. However her good side was just not on form today, and her delicate fingers skimmed the creamy page as she began to read.

_"Harry Potter, also known as the Boy-Who-Lived. He defeated Lord Voldemort at a very young age while his parents were killed. He's humble about it, and almost seems to hate the publicity he gets. Good friends with the asshole Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, known as the _Golden Trio_. He's remarkably low key about the whole celebrity thing, probably because he had to live with Muggles before he came to Hogwarts._

_He absolutely despises Draco Malfoy, but I know I would if I were a Gryffindor. I'm fairly sure he'd kill me too if he had the chance, even though I've never once spoken to him. He seems to have issues with Slytherins and generalizations towards all other houses. He thinks that all Slytherins are evil Death Eaters, all Ravenclaws are boring and stiff, and Hufflepuffs are stupid. Of course his Gryffindors are all perfect. Right._

_He is extremely loyal, and has a definite saving people thing. He's intelligent, but lacks enough common sense to use it._

_He and Ron stick together all the time, but Potter has a horrible way of showing how much he likes Granger. He definitely takes her for granted, and his way of getting tongue tied around any girl doesn't really help either."_

Wait. What was Zabini saying about Harry? That he… liked her? She shook her head. That was impossible… She'd have to think through that one later.

Once again quashing the feeling that she was doing something very sacrilegious, she began flipping randomly, and stopped as _Draco Malfoy_ was scrawled across the page:

_"Draco Malfoy is a huge git, though he is my best friend. I've known him since I was born, seeing as we're both Pure and all that. I'd really like to say he's a good person, but I don't particularly think he is. The only reason he isn't jumping at the idea of killing Muggles is because he hates the sight of blood. And thinks that menial work is beneath him, of course. Also, unlike his father Lucius, Draco understands that going over to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's side will not gain him any power. Rather, it will make him a slave to a man that is hardly alive…"_

Skipping a strangely endearing picture of a stick figure Blaise chasing after a crying stick Draco, Hermione continued to read this strange insight into her enemy's mind.

"_You do feel bad for the kid, though. His father is excruciatingly harsh to him, and Draco really is a very intelligent boy. Third in the class, actually; kicked his arse just enough to land the Head Boy spot. _

_But Draco is definitely a jerk and no good. But who could expect much else from a Slytherin and a Malfoy to boot?"_

Hermione sighed. It looked like the Order wasn't getting a spy in one Draco Malfoy any time soon.

Glancing at the clock, she realised that she had better hurry up. Blaise could be back anytime now. She just needed to read one entry that she prayed Blaise had written. She flipped through the book until she found what she was looking for.

With a small sigh, she saw her name neatly written (_Well, comparatively speaking_, she laughed to herself) on the top of the page. Almost fearfully her eyes ventured farther down the page. She now knew absolutely that she shouldn't be reading this. But curiosity won out.

_"Hermione Granger. Of course the most brilliant witch in school, stupid girl always beats me as well. Can't say how much it bothers me, but she obviously deserves it. She's the only other person I know with the same ridiculous work ethic combined with terminal insomnia that I've been plagued with. She's friends with Harry Potter and Weasley, but she's the third wheel of the _Golden Trio_. She tends to be rather oblivious to the outside world, and more focused on dreams and goals. Can't say I agree with this way of living, but I admire it._

"_She is very independent and she has an amazingly frightening mind for logic. She has excruciatingly high standards for her work and I think that sometimes she pushes herself too far. But who am I to say, really? She seems to be a natural leader, but defers to others because of low self esteem, I think. Many people think she's arrogant, but she's just a psychotic perfectionist._

"_She's one of the few people I can stand, but I only talk to her rarely, and when I do I sound like a complete idiot. It's not my fault I hate public speaking, while she's always such a loud mouth. Her loud mouth, though, tends to be a cover for her insecurities. Shockingly, Miss Perfect (if you look hard enough) is very insecure about herself, though she really oughtent be. Her legs, for example, are often the talk of the boy's loo after a hot Saturday outside by the lake…"_

Hermione slowly got up and returned the book, wishing she could read more, but her logical side knowing that Blaise would soon return from breakfast. Her mind was whirling as she considered this dissection of her personality. It wasn't nearly as harsh as she would have thought. In fact, he had _praised _her. Well, her intellect. And her legs, apparently.

Bending around and brushing her robes out of the way, she did have to admit that they weren't bad. But-- what in the bloody hell was she doing?

Shaking her head she decided that she had gotten much too superficial. So without thinking, she grabbed Ginny's gift and returned to her chair. But a second thought rose from her mind and she quickly grabbed a quill and scrap piece of parchment from the table beside her. Writing quickly, she dissected Blaise Zabini.

_"Blaise Zabini. Has a horrible fear of public speaking and that translates into utter silence towards everyone. He's quiet, serious, and bordering on sensitive for a Slytherin. He's trying hard to be "cosmically neutral", the high standards his parents set on him, but I don't think that he really agrees with that. He never has any interest in leading or controlling things, but always has it done in case someone else screws up._

"_He craves personal space and solitude, but I think that he could really use someone. He pushes people away though, intentionally or not. I think—"_

Her quill abruptly stopped as the portrait hole swung open and Blaise stepped into the room. He stared at her as she threw down her quill and stuffed a piece of parchment into her pocket. She looked guilty- of what, he wasn't sure. He smirked at her white face.

"Hi," she said, trying to look casual about the fact that she had nearly had a heart attack when he walked in the room. "I didn't see you this morning. Did you sleep in?"

He nodded and took a seat on the couch next to her chair. He glanced at her book, and began to laugh, throwing his head back and missing the sight of the Head Girl slamming the book shut and attempting to hide the naughty picture on the cover of the book.

Blushing furiously, she managed to stammer out, "It was a gift from Ginny. She's forcing me to read it. Honestly, I don't go into the library and pick this stuff out." She was so going to kill Ginny the next time she saw her.

"Well what would you do if you found the Head Girl curled up in your common room with a book filled with naked people?" Blaise threw an amused look at Hermione and stretched out on the couch, feeling very tired even after getting a lot of sleep the previous night.

Hermione forced herself to calm down, realising that Blaise had no idea she had read his journal. How would he? "I think that I would be much more interested if I saw the Head Boy reading smut," she said rather cryptically, earning her an appraising glance from the nearby Slytherin.

"Sorry, I don't read smutty romance novels. Not really my taste."

"Pity." Hermione stretched in her chair and glanced at the clock over the mantle. "You do realise that we've got Hogsmeade duty in about half an hour, don't you?" Hermione had nearly forgotten herself, until she had been reminded by about fifty people this morning over breakfast.

Blaise, who was by now rolled over onto his stomach and who seemed to be smothering himself with a pillow, did not feel the urge to reply, but merely moaned pitifully. He _hated_ Hogsmeade duty. All the little brats running around, screaming in high pitched voices about this and that… Hell. "I hate Hogsmeade duty. Checking off every little twit's name is hell on earth for me. I can hear their little screeching voices already…"

"Oh, come on. Everyone's really looking forward to it—it's the last chance to go to Hogsmeade before Christmas break. And it's just too bad for you because I can't handle all those ruffians myself." Again getting no coherent reply from Blaise she stalked over to the coat rack and grabbed their cloaks. She threw hers on her vacant chair and threw his at him. "Blaise! Get up!"

Blaise's only move was to flip her off.

Hermione gasped in surprise. Her eyes narrowed and she stepped forward toward his couch, fists clenching dangerously. She leaned over until her lips hovered next to his ear. She saw him shiver from her hot breath. "Blaise," she breathed. His head turned slowly so their noses were almost touching.

"Yes?" He asked huskily, finding it somehow hard to speak, what with his throat being so dry and all. He licked his lips as Hermione took a deep breath, leaning even closer towards his ear, her soft breath (smelling of pancakes, surprisingly) breathing in and out at roughly half the rate of his beating pulse.

"GET UP, YOU LAZY BUM!" She grinned as he jumped up, almost hitting his head on hers. _Well, that worked._

Somehow, somewhere in the pit of his stomach, Blaise felt a little let down. He had been expecting… something. Shrugging the feeling off, he donned his cloak and followed sulkily behind Hermione, letting his hair fall in front of his eyes, giving him the look of a petulant toddler. He shuffled behind her and slammed the portrait a bit too hard, gaining him the ire of the little old lady drinking tea ('The nerve!') as he made his way down the hall.

After a few moments of silence as they walked a few feet apart from each other, Hermione slowed down so Blaise was forced to walk next to her. Or stop.

He chose to stop, forcing Hermione to drag him behind her, much to the amusement of a group of first year Hufflepuffs, all of whom giggled like the little devils he knew them to be.

"Zabini, you're an idiot." Hermione couldn't help but laugh at the comical figure that Blaise cut. "And get that hair out of your eyes—you look like an idiot."

He shook his head and threw another look of injured dignity towards her.

"Merlin, you're hopeless." She reached over and brushed the hair from in front of his eyes . She couldn't help but run her fingers down his cheek before relinquishing her touch. Embarrassed, she started walking again, but by the time they reached Hogwart's outer gates they were both walking in an amicable silence, yet both considerably shaken by the thoughts they were having.

"_Must be the romance novel_," muttered Hermione under her breath as she fumbled through her pockets for the student's list.

"Pardon?"

"Oh. Nothing." Hermione drew the list of students from her pocket and positioned herself by the gates, while Blaise merely gazed impassively at the growing queue of students. Hermione checked her watch and, with a wave of her wand, opened the gates. The students pressed forward, and the only way Hermione didn't get crushed was by Blaise stopping the large mass of students.

"Alright you cretins! Get in line," he roared. The cowed students got in line silently, shocked to hear their quiet Head Boy raise his voice (or in some cases _hear_ his voice). "Now, one at a time, give Hermione your name and year." He stood aside and bowed his head towards Hermione.

"Impressive," remarked Hermione quietly as she checked out a fourth year Ravenclaw who looked distinctly frightened as he was forced to pass the Head Boy. Though the whole process was tedious, Headmaster Dumbledore had come up with this check up procedure to ensure the safe return of all the Hogwarts students in Hogsmeade.

Finally, after a half hour of dull checking, the process was over and only the Head Boy and Girl were left standing at the gates.

Blaise noticed Hermione shiver. "Cold?" he asked intelligently.

"Quite," she grinned. Reaching up, she placed her freezing hands on both of his cheeks. Even though he was cold, her hands felt positively icy on his cheeks. "Cold, no?"

"You're freezing," he said, scandalized. He ripped off his own gloves and put them on Hermione's hands, ignoring her protests. "Now come on. I'm going to buy you a butterbeer and get you warm."

"Blaise, you really don't have to," Hermione said, secretly touched at his concern.

"I don't want my co-Head freezing so I've got to do all the work for the rest of the year."

Hermione smiled, touched by the obvious concern veiled under his remark. Complacently she began walking towards Hogsmeade, huddled close to his warm body. She was amazed at how remarkably comfortable she felt.

_What do I do? What do I do? What the bloody hell am I doing?_ Blaise felt far from comfortable. He liked being alone, and he liked his personal space, and she had really violated it. He knew she didn't do it intentionally, and that he really should be pleased to have a pretty girl so close to him, but the unfamiliarity of the situation seemed to crush the breath from his nearly frozen lungs.

As they neared Hogsmeade, they got odd looks from all houses, but both were too cold to care. They set their sights on The Three Broomsticks, and by the time they reached the large wooden door they were practically running. They threw the door open and nearly groaned with pleasure as the warm rush of air hit their red faces. Ignoring looks from fellow students, they took a table closest to the fire.

"Two butterbeers," he called as the waitress strode by looking extremely harassed. "Poor woman," he remarked, "having to deal with all of us."

Hermione nodded in mock sympathy. "Especially stupid, sulky Slytherins like you."

"Alliteration?" He raised his eyebrows. "I'm impressed Granger."

Hermione grinned, basking in the attention of the handsome young man. Once again she was reminded with a pang of how different Harry and Ron had been acting around her. They had not commented on how much time she had spent with Blaise, a Slytherin, lately. And most shocking of all, she found herself not missing them at all.

Pulling herself out of her thoughts, she met the blue eyes of a concerned Blaise. "Hello? I'm still here! I'm a handsome young boy! Why are you ignoring my charms?"

Hermione laughed. "I don't know. Somehow I'm able to resist."

"Ouch, you really know how to wound a guy." He held his hand over his heart as Hermione giggled. "No, I'm serious."

"What the hell are you talking about Zabini?"

"You have no idea how many guys are after you and have been constantly rejected."

"Rejected?" Hermione's face contorted into a look of confusion so priceless Blaise had to laugh. "No one's ever even asked me out!"

"That's because whenever they try to talk to you, you always brush them off to go do Ancient Rune's work, or something."

"So because I have work ethic that makes me bad as a girl?"

"Well," said Blaise thoughtfully, attempting to banish a grin from his face, "nothing punctures a guy's ego more than thinking a girl's homework gets more action than he does!"

"Oh. Well, that's too bad. If they can't respect me for that, then that's their problem."

Blaise made a strange face Hermione couldn't decode. "I suppose that's very true. But did you know even Draco wants to make you his next conquest?" He nodded at Hermione's incredulous snort. "It's true! But live under no illusions that he wants anything more, though I'm sure you're smart enough to figure that out."

Hermione merely stared at him. Blaise was such an enigmatic person, with the most random but insightful thoughts. Feeling decidedly uncomfortable with this topic, she moved on and changed the subject. "So, where does your family live?"

"We're originally from Italy, obviously, but we now live in the countryside near Birmingham. We moved when I was seven, but we go back to visit my grandparents every summer." Blaise seemed to radiate a happiness as he thought of his native land.

"Why'd you move?"

Blaise's happy demeanour immediately disappeared. "Because my parents disagreed with my grandparents' allegiance to Dumbledore and the light side."

"Your parents hate them just because they're doing what must be done? Have they no concept of right and wrong?"

Blaise's eyes blazed with fury at the insinuation. "No! Don't give me your puritanical right or wrong lecture. Just because you have your whole damn life and ideology laid out for you by some half baked wizards doesn't mean what you're doing is right!"

Hermione looked as if she had just been slapped in the face. "Blaise, you take that back! I KNOW my ideology is right! I have so much faith in it because the other side holds everything dear to me in contempt! And, just so you know, it stands to reason that if someone rejects the good side they'll go to the evil side!"

"Never assume Granger!"

"Blaise, as much as you hope, you can never _ever _be neutral in this! When the war culminates you will have to pick a side! It will be worse not having a side; can't you understand that? You'll have two sides perceiving you as a traitor rather than just one. And I, for one, know that when the fighting begins, I will _never_ consort with anyone that I do not absolutely trust."

His eyes widened at her words. It wasn't true. Being neutral was the only way to be saved in this bloody war, and he was the only one to see it. "You're wrong Granger," he hissed. "And don't worry, I won't be consorting with you either. I'll be doing more important things like saving my own ass while you die for a stupid cause."

"STUPID! Oh fine, I suppose I'm stupid. The other side just wants to kill any one like me just because of my Muggle heritage and turn the world into a living hell! Right, I suppose I can see where I'm parading a stupid cause here Zabini!"

Blaise glared at her once more, nodding once.

"Fine," she sobbed. "Good. I don't care."

He turned away, stung, and left, seeing Weasley and Potter bearing down on the table he had just vacated. Before he left he could hear Potter saying, over the uncomfortable silence Blaise's argument had left in the tavern, "But Hermione told me that he was _kind_."

Ignoring the fierce ache in his chest at the belatedly kind words of Hermione Granger, he stormed from the shop.

And he was alone, striding down the miserable wet streets of Hogsmeade, utterly consumed in the hatred of the "Good Side."

--------

A/N: As I looked over this, I changed it quite a bit, just to make it more realistic, so I hope that you all appreciate it! So, of course, read and review, and I will be forever grateful!

I would also like to know: **Who do you agree with? **Blaise or Hermione? Are you into championing the good fight, or self preservation? I hold no false thoughts about myself. I know I'd save my ass over championing a lost cause, but that's just because I've no morals, eh? Well what about you?


	4. Chapter 4

-1A/N: Well, well. Another chapter, a new and exciting plot line to follow. Are you excited yet? I sure am! Haha.

Anyway, I'm writing a special little Valentine's Day story that should be up tomorrow or the day after. It's definitely not a happy little Valentine's Day fic (can anyone say 'slightly masochistic'?) but I hope you all can enjoy it!

So… Onward!

-----

**Division**

Mnemosynesque

Summary: Blaise Zabini, social recluse extraordinaire, after two days of shocking speech, has once again fallen back into silence. Hermione, starting the week out with a new friend, is now forced to live with a boy who hates her guts. And with the imminent threat of Dumbledore forcing them to work together, their outlook on life is rather… bitter, shall we say? Now they're back with their old friends, ignoring each other as usual. As Blaise says, "Fuck Granger. I always knew that Gryffindors were a bunch of fuckwits."

Rating: PG-13, just because Draco Malfoy has a horribly vulgar mouth. (And a bitter Blaise can make a crude one.)

Disclaimer: Some things in life are simply unattainable. This would be one of them, unfortunately. This is J. K. Rowling's. I haven't got a chance of owning it, so screw you.

-----

**Chapter 4: My Grief Lies Onward, and My Joy Behind**

_How heavy do I journey on the way,  
When what I seek, my weary travel's end,  
Doth teach that ease and that repose to say,  
'Thus far the miles are measured from thy friend!'  
The beast that bears me, tired with my woe,  
Plods dully on, to bear that weight in me,  
As if by some instinct the wretch did know  
His rider lov'd not speed being made from thee.  
The bloody spur cannot provoke him on,  
That sometimes anger thrusts into his hide,  
Which heavily he answers with a groan,  
More sharp to me than spurring to his side;  
For that same groan doth put this in my mind,  
My grief lies onward, and my joy behind._

_-Sonnet L_

Alicia sat under the kitchen table playing with a discarded pan as her older sister Kaylin helped her mother prepare dinner. This wasn't an unusual task, but tonight it held an air of expectancy-- though of what, neither of the two girls could say.

"Kaylin, could you get the—" But Kaylin never heard her mother's request.

The door slammed open, knocking several frayed cookbooks to the linoleum floor. Mrs. Reader spun around, brandishing her wooden spoon like a sword, expecting to see her husband irate after a hard day at work. Instead, she saw something that she had heard only stories about.

A tall thing stood in the doorway, clothed in a long black robe, face obscured with a black mask and hood. The man walked towards the cowering family, emitting a sadistic chuckle that only little Alicia heard. At the chilling sound Alicia shivered, wishing she could be with her mother at this moment, rather than sitting under the table while this strange apparition was in her house.

Hearing her whimper, the man bent over to peer at Alicia from under the table. A chuckle escaped his lips as he easily tossed aside the wooden table, leaving the small girl exposed. Grabbing her arm, he dragged her roughly from under the table, ignoring the protestations of her helpless mother. The man pulled her close, holding her painfully in a vise-like grip, until she could feel his hot breath on her cheek.

"You and your entire family are a mistake. Your Muggle bloodlines have no place on this earth. Your dirty blood should not be here to taint the blood of the Pure--"

"Do not punish them for something they cannot help!"

"Woman! I demand silence!" His breath, and the scent of opulent, exotic spices, washed over Alicia once more, causing a shiver to run down her spine.

"Please! Don't harm my children! They've done nothing! They _know_ nothing."

"Again, I will repeat: _silence_."

The unknown man yanked Alicia higher, dangling her from the ground as she began to whimper and beg. Behind him, the Death Eater could hear the child's mother crumple to the floor with a sob, pulling her remaining child close to her as she watched her youngest draw nearer and nearer to death.

Suddenly, a flash of green light along with strange words, and something unspeakably limp fell to the floor with a dull thud. Mrs. Reader couldn't look. She shut her eyes tightly, and clung to Kaylin, seeking to shield her somewhat from this man. Another flash, and she felt the dead weight of her second daughter in her arms.

But no, she wasn't dead. It just wasn't possible.

The man stepped forward. "With you? With you, I think I shall have a bit more fun." She could hear the smile in his voice and cursed him for doing this. She felt something prod her neck, and she looked up, seeing the man holding something thin and wooden. He drew it down, until it reached her shirt line. Laughing, the man made the wooded rod heat up, until it burned through her shirt and left a long red welt down her chest.

Already, his spine tingled with the glorious cacophony of her screams combined with his rapid breathing and the birds of winter twittering softly outside.

-----

Later… Her screams had faded quickly: she had been easy to give up after seeing her daughters killed over and over in her mind. Quickly the man washed his hands in the sink and hurried out into the night.

He left the impression of two sleeping children, and a woman's corpse, the light reflecting the blood she lay in. Her face was twisted in agony from the punishment of a crime she had unknowingly committed.

The killer laughed silently in the night before he Apparated to a small pub in Hogsmeade to check on his partner's progress with the woman's husband.

All in all, a good night.

-----

Blaise sighed and idly drummed his fingers on the table. Why had he agreed to this? Watching Pansy parade around in hardly anything was not his version of a fun day. Oh right, because Draco had _forced_ him to under penalty of getting beat up by Goyle. Right…

"Draco, know again that I hate you with every fiber of my body." He threw a glare at the perfectly poised blonde boy lounging in the chair beside him. Blaise had known Draco all of his life, and they had formed a tenuous alliance over the years. While no self respecting Slytherin would ever blatantly claim to have a "friendship" with another, it was about as close as they got.

"Blaise, my friend, I knew that you hated me long before this day. But thank you for reminding me." At least he looked just as bored as Blaise felt.

"Drakkie? What do you think of this one?"

Draco winced at the sound of his _girlfriend's_ (if Draco could be said to actually hold onto one girl long enough for that) voice. He rolled his eyes in annoyance and glanced at the girl. "It's not bad Parkinson. Keep trying though. There has to be something made that flatters you."

Nodding, she retreated back to her room to try on even more unbecoming styles.

"So Blaise, did you hear the latest news? I just got an owl about it before we left school, so probably not." Draco's eyes were shining with a sort of sick and twisted kind of glee. Blaise knew from experience that the news would probably be unpleasant.

"No, I haven't heard of anything. Something your father was involved in?"

Draco grinned and nodded. With a quick glance around the store to make sure there was no one near that would be potentially dangerous. "Well, there's been an attack." He leaned closer to Blaise's chair and lowered his voice conspiratorially. "In the middle of Muggle London, there was a small family of two young girls, four and ten, and their parents. Well, their father was actually brother to a Muggleborn who went to Hogwarts a while ago. This brother was rather outspoken about his anti-Voldemort stance and was killed some years earlier."

Blaise remembered hearing about that from his father a few years ago. "So?"

"Well, this is the brilliant part. Today was the fifth year anniversary of his brother's death. What better way to celebrate than to remind him." Draco's sick pleasure at this was enough to make Blaise want to vomit. "So they got his family while he was at work. The daughters, I hear, had it easy, but the wife… Not something you'd want to come home to."

Blaise felt unspeakably ill. How could someone, one of his closest friends find this monstrosity funny and, more important, morally right?

Pansy emerged once more, in a dress that was surprisingly pretty. Draco nodded curtly. "That's the one. Now hurry up, I want to get out of here."

Pansy nodded happily and with a high pitched "I thought that too," bustled back into the changing room to put her plain school robes back on.

While she was getting redressed, Draco leaned over towards Blaise, and asked him in a stage whisper, "Why is she trying on all these damn dresses again?"

Blaise rolled his eyes. It was so easy for Draco to switch from killing Muggles to such a mundane topic. "Geez Draco. I've told you this about fifty times. It's because it's almost the Christmas Ball. It's two weeks from now, during break. Remember? I told you last night when we were all down in the common room." From the blank look on Draco's face, he was pretty sure he didn't.

"God damnit Blaise. You knew I was drunk last night. Tell me these things when I'm not inebriated, okay? You know I can't remember shit when I'm drunk."

"You're always drunk, you ass. You can't keep letting the lower years have those parties while you 'chaperone' them. Load of good you do them. But anyway," he continued warningly, I've planned the Christmas Ball this year so don't fuck it up!

Draco had the nerve to look hurt.

"Ready boys?" Pansy's presumed coquettish voice reached the boys as she sauntered back carrying what looked to be a large mass of black gauze.

Draco nodded curtly and strode out the door, telling Pansy he'd wait for her outside. Blaise followed him, wondering how Pansy could still think she was in love with the magnificent asshole.

After a few minutes of pointless waiting which Draco spent inspecting his fingernails, Pansy emerged toting the internationally known maroon bag of _Gladrags_. "Come boys, I'm feeling a bit hungry. Shall we head to the Three Broomsticks?"

Moments later found the quiet threesome in one of the few free tables in the bustling bar. Draco had just ordered them three butterbeers, and as they waited for the warm drinks to appear, Blaise settled into an uncomfortable silence, Draco, a moody one, and Pansy looked like she had just gotten a frontal lobotomy.

"Here's your drinks, luv. Pay up front as you leave," said the harried waitress as she hurried off to attend to a particularly rowdy bunch of fifth years.

Blaise gratefully reached for his mug to dispel the last remnants of the chilly day from his bones, but as he took a sip and icy current of air rushed up his back. Turning around in his chair to glare at the unfortunate idiot who walked in.

Hermione led Harry and Ron in the mad rush to enter the Three Broomsticks, her face flush with the sting of the wind as she led them to the last open table.

After the strange and short burst of Blaise in her life, which she conveniently failed to mention to Harry and Ron (they wouldn't understand), she was back as a seamless part of the Golden Trio. It felt good to be back with the two-- back into normalcy.

"So Hermione, how have you been?" Harry's voice broke through her concentration. "You disappeared there for a while."

"Let me guess. School work?" Her fiery haired friend chuckled at his own joke.

Hermione laughed too, albeit nervously. "Um, yes. I had loads of Rune work that I'm trying to finish before Blaise goes off for holidays. Partners, for a project," she added hastily at the confused looks on her friends faces.

"Oh, right. Just as long as you're not fraternizing with the enemy, right Ron?" The two laughed at Harry's jest while Hermione licked her lips and threw a glance towards the table currently housing the three Slytherins. It had been a few days since the last time she had been in the tavern, and a few days since she and Blaise had spoken.

Sighing, she realised with a pang that she actually missed the damn Slytherin. He had been one of the few people who could give her the intellectual stimulation that she craved in a conversation. But, she conceded to herself, knowing where he stands and making it clear that we're on different sides is more important than a petty "friendship". If you could even call it that.

Shaking her head to clear the troubling thoughts, she turned her attention back to Ron and Harry, who were discussing something in low tones.

"But you reckon it's nothing, right mate?" Ron's freckles stood out on his pale face, and Hermione immediately focused on issues closer to home.

"What's nothing?"

"My scar hurt last night, but it hasn't hurt since then, so it was probably just something small. Nothing to worry about, right?" Hermione looked into Harry's frightened emerald eyes and wished she could reassure her friend.

"I wish I could say that Harry. But V-Voldemort has been long overdue for something. He's been resting too quietly. Something could happen." It broke her heart to see the pain in her friend. His hands gripped the table so hard his knuckles went white.

"I thought the same thing; I was just hoping that you would say differently." He paused, and took a breath to compose himself. "I suppose I should go to Dumbledore, then?"

Hermione nodded, backed up by a slightly green Ron. "But we don't have to do it right now, do we?"

"I reckon we ought to, Ron," replied Harry.

They sat in silence for a moment, all unwilling to go and face frightening reality again.

"So, the Dream Team feeling a bit morose about something? What is it, Potty? Need to go save someone?" Draco Malfoy could never resist an easy target.

_He knows something_, Hermione thought. She could see it on his pointed face—the glee of whatever unspeakable thing his father had done. And, she could see it on Blaise's face, weighing him down.

"Fuck off, Malfoy. I'm not in the mood." Harry continued to stare off into space even as he shot back an insult at Malfoy.

Two pink spots appeared on Draco's cheeks, the only indication that he had been slighted. "Always the hero, aren't we? So brave. So selfless. But when that final battle comes, we'll see. Just wait until you see all that you love torn down by the other side." His voice dropped low, so only Harry could hear his final words. "Then see how well you keep your sanity, Hero."

Hermione wasn't even quite sure how it happened after the fact. All she knew was that suddenly she realised that the two boys were on the floor, Harry atop Malfoy, trying to pound his face into oblivion.

She stood frozen, not quite sure what to do short of holding Ron back from also beating the living daylights out of Ferret boy. Luckily, two seventh year Ravenclaws (thank Merlin for their level headedness) managed to each grab one and hold them apart, kicking and scratching in an attempt to get to the other.

However… She felt his presence before she actually saw him. Looking to her right, she met the haunted eyes of one Blaise Zabini.

"There's been a horrible attack."

He turned and left.

"Wait! Blaise! What are you talking about?" Hermione asked after she caught up with him before he managed to wrench open the heavy doors of the pub. "And how do you know?"

Blaise sighed, a sad, painful sound that made Hermione's heart twist. "Draco told me, of course, in excruciating detail. I'm sure his father was behind it. Two Muggle children and their mother. Quite the torture of the mother, or so I gathered."

Hermione had grown pallid as he spoke. "That's horrible," she managed to whisper. "How can you stand being around those people? That take such sick pleasure in that? How do you keep your sanity?"

Blaise shrugged. "I've done it all my life, I'll continue to do so."

Glancing over his shoulder and seeing that their two groups were still occupied with the fight, she turned back to him and asked, "Why did you tell me?"

He shrugged self consciously. "I don't know. I guess if I'm going to be neutral, I have to make sure that each side has the same information."

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "Well, I'll be sure never to tell you anything important." She licked her lips and eyed him sadly. "I'm sorry I can't trust you, Blaise." She turned to return to her friends, but his long fingers snaked around her arm urgently, sending chills up her spine. "What?"

Blaise looked pained as he pulled her towards the door and they slipped out into the cold weather, unseen through the uproar. "Look, Draco was in a very talkative mood today. And… And he told me there's a Death Eater meeting tonight for the highest ranked Death Eaters, and he's attending."

"Malfoy? B-but we… we thought he might be saved."

"No luck there. He's much too far gone."

"But--" Blaise looked up sharply at the tone Hermione used.

"Don't look at me like that," he muttered crossly, feeling strangely self-conscious at the look of hurt in her eyes. He had tried to forget their angry parting words many times, but the image of her crying could not be erased from his mind.

"_Blaise, as much as you hope, you can never ever be neutral in this! When the war culminates you will have to pick a side! It will be worse not having a side; can't you understand that? You'll have two sides perceiving you as a traitor rather than just one. And I, for one, know that when the fighting begins, I will never consort with anyone that I do not absolutely trust."_

Her words had affected him more than he would ever admit to anyone. _But_, he thought as he refocused on the woman in front of him, _that was all in the past. It's done now._

"Blaise, there's still hope for you… You've already started by giving me this information." She moved forward and gripped his forearm with such strength Blaise hadn't thought her capable of. "You can help this cause, you can be part of the fight against evil. Blaise," she admonished as he began to protest, "as 'neutral' as you are, I know you can't stand for what the Death Eaters stand for."

"Hermione…" His fingers grazed her hand that still clutched his arm, coming to rest on her hip. "Just don't."

"Please, just think about it."

"'_I am not bound to please thee with my answers_.'"

Hermione smiled sadly. "'_Be great in act, as you have been in thought.'"_

"'_I pray thee cease thy counsel, which falls into mine ears as profitless as water in a sieve._'" Blaise prised her fingers from his arm and, after brushing a rough kiss across the knuckles, pushed her towards the door. "Now get back in there before any of your Gryffindors start to worry."

----

A/N: Those last three quotes were from Mr. William Shakespeare himself, of course. And yes, this chapter was slightly short, and I'm quite sorry about that, but, well that's all that needed to be here! Because… Next chapter is the Ball!

But in order to repay you for this short chapter (and that the fact I'm off to Mexico on the 18th for a week, meaning a new chapter will be a while in coming) I've decided to do this: **within the review I'm SURE you will all leave after reading this, feel free to ask for an element/character/object/quote/etc… to be included in the next chapter**. Basically any sort of aspect (within reason) will (hopefully) be included in the next chapter.

So have fun with that, and expect the new chapter to come in somewhere around the beginning of March!


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Psh, of course I haven't been missing for ages. I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about. Well, Okay, so I've been a bum about updating this, but look here: a nice long chapter for you guys to read and enjoy. I think you'll like this one. Well, I hope you do, or else I will be very sad. But anyway, on to the story.

-----

**Division**

Mnemosynesque

Summary: Blaise Zabini, social recluse extraordinaire, after two days of shocking speech, has once again fallen back into silence. Hermione, starting the week out with a new friend, is now forced to live with a boy who hates her guts. However when the Yule Ball makes an appearance things get strange again and Hermione finds herself missing the Blaise Zabini she only met for a short time. Blaise is… well, Blaise is pretty confused. As he says, "Who knew she could dance like that!"

Rating: PG-13 still, for some language and in this case dancing that is a little hotter than Blaise's usual waltzes.

Disclaimer: Some things in life are simply unattainable. This would be one of them, unfortunately. This is J. K. Rowling's. I haven't got a chance of owning it, so screw you.

-----

**Chapter Five: They Should still dance to please a gazer's sight**

_Though dusty wits dare scorn astrology,  
And fools can think those lamps of purest light  
Whose numbers, ways, greatness, eternity,   
Promising wonders, wonder do invite,  
To have for no cause birthright in the sky,  
But for to spangle the black weeds of night:  
Or for some brawl, which in that chamber high,  
They should still dance to please a gazer's sight;  
For me, I do Nature unidle know,  
And know great causes, great effects procure:  
And know those bodies high reign on the low.  
And if these rules did fail, proof makes me sure,  
Who oft fore-judge my after-following race,  
By only those two stars in Stella's face. _

-_Sonnet XXVI_

Hermione had to admit to herself that as much as she was hurt by her fight with Blaise (that seemed to now be a Hogwarts legend, thanks to the gossip machine that was Lavender and Parvati), she really missed him. Of course Harry and Ron were lovely boys, but it just wasn't the same as talking to Blaise, on the intellectual level or the level where Hermione ogled him when they spoke.

But that was being very superficial. In truth he was always on her mind, his haunted eyes, and his mournful voice as he tried to deny his attachment to anything. She ached for him when she thought of the inner turmoil even she could see. He was-

"Hermione?"

She turned around and saw Ron and Harry standing next to each other, looking rather nervous. "Yes? Do you need something?"

"We, um, we just wanted to talk to you."

"About stuff," Ron amended eloquently, and promptly began blushing.

Hermione arched her eyebrow in question. "Alright…?"

"Look, Hermione, we're worried about this Zabini chap. He's been an utter prat to you and I- we- think that he could be dangerous." Harry glanced at her as if ready to retreat if her anger was raised, but her expression was shockingly blank. "Look, we just think he's trouble and that you should stay away."

"We've seen him with Malfoy, and that's never a good idea." Ron looked disgusted at the mere idea. "We just want you to be safe, 'Mione. I mean, we're not saying that he's going to kill you or anything, but he does seem like a bit of a… a dick."

Hermione looked at them with a mixture of gratitude and sadness. Her mind was screaming at her to tell them the whole sordid story and get the weight off her chest, but her heart shouted that they wouldn't understand and that it would violate Zabini's trust, or at least what Hermione hoped might exist of it. And even deeper down, when she was very true to herself, she knew that she wouldn't tell them because she had not yet figured out the enigmatic boy. Sharing her information with the boys would be like an admission of her inability to cope with the situation, and if Hermione Granger could do one thing well it was coping.

And that was that.

"I think it's fair enough that I need to be careful around him. That I stay away from him as much as possible." She stifled a smile at the shocked looks on the boys' faces as she readily agreed. "I mean, I'll still have to work with him for Head's business, but other than that I will try to keep my distance."

Harry smiled happily and said, "I'm glad you see that Hermione. We just want you to be safe. These are dangerous times."

Hermione sighed and nodded. "I know that Harry, probably better than most. I really don't want you to worry about me… I just thought that he would be nicer, or that we could be friends. I guess that's just the eternal optimist in me." She managed a small smile for her friends.

Ron nodded his head and laughed lightly. "We know you're crazy like that, Hermione. But we're really glad that you're agreeing with us. I mean, we were really sure you were going to scratch our eyes out when we suggest something about change."

"Oh, Ron," she sighed.

-----

"…Finally Blaise and I will be working on the final charms for the trees."

Finally snapping back into reality as he heard his name Blaise realized that Hermione (and himself, he supposed) were now taking questions from the over eager prefects before dismissing them to go about their various duties before they could get this damn ball going.

"What do you want Zeller?" Blaise didn't bother to mask his annoyance at the young Hufflepuff prefect and was rewarded by a terrified look on the diminutive girl's face.

"Why do I have to work with Malcolm?" she asked, referring to the sixth year prefect from Slytherin with features akin to a goat's and the body of a small mountain troll.

"I have to deal with a Slytherin as well, Rose, so just deal with it." Blaise was torn between amusement and being offended at the Head Girl's statement. "Anything else? No? Well then, let's get going. Now!"

The younger students scattered and moved toward their respective stations, chattering loudly and excitedly. Though both Hermione and Blaise could guess it was with a lot more enthusiasm than either of them could muster.

"Well, let's get going." Blaise followed Hermione toward the largest of the four fir trees that adorned the corners of the Great Hall. They really were magnificent trees, this one being nearly twenty feet tall, all coming from Hagrid the groundskeeper and his dubious sources.

"I've got this one, you can go ahead," Blaise said, drawing his wand and studiously ignoring those _legs_. "_Mico_," he intoned, the large tree suddenly flooded with thousands of small points of white light. Not even bothering to admire his work he cut across the length of the Great Hall to perform the same incantation on the third tree.

After finishing his tasks Blaise stared around the hall at the other students as they happily prepared the delicate decorations for the upcoming debauchery. He couldn't help but be entirely apathetic about the whole night. The only bright spot was that the Head Girl looked just as miserable as he.

"Oh Merlin, my dress is so pretty! It's all white and sparkly, understated but elegant, just like this ball," squealed a sixth year Ravensclaw to another as they passed Blaise.

The understated elegance of this Yule Ball was making him sick.

-----

For the millionth time that night Hermione thanked her lucky stars that she was no longer forced to get ready for balls in the company of Parvati and Lavender. No more insinuations of how much better she'd look with more makeup or the after ball "get togethers." Finally she could prepare in peace at her own pace.

She had just showered and charmed her hair to be down and not too out of control, as well as tentatively applying a bit of make up. Somehow she had managed to not poke her eye out with any mascara. Finally, she had donned her dress. Slowly, she was getting more and more excited. _Guess I really am a girl_, she thought wryly to herself.

Looking critically in the full length mirror for the first time that night Hermione was quite pleased with the effect of her new "trendy" dress robes. (Lavender and Parvati would be _so_ proud.) The robes cut off a few inches above the knee and were a pleasant deep green colour; she was ashamed to admit it, but she really _did_ have good legs.

"Oh Merlin. I've become one of those girls." Sighing, she turned away from the mirror and settled down on her bed to read until she was required to head down to the Great Hall.

The next room's inhabitant was not as calm as his neighbor, pacing back and forth and dreading the opening dance that he had been forewarned would occur. His floor length black dress robes swept around him in a way that would have pleased Snape a great deal, but that did little to please him.

Sighting and forcing himself to calm down Blaise took one last look in the mirror, casually rumpling his still wet hair for the best effect, and wrenched his door open, walked down the hall, and cautiously knocked on the mahogany of the Head Girl's room.

"Yes?" he heard from inside, strangely muted by the walls.

"Are you ready to go?" He heard vague rustling emanating from inside and suddenly the door opened to reveal a very decent looking Hermione Granger. "You look nice," he remarked and was in some way pleased that it had brought a small smile to her face. He allowed her to go first, out of gentleman courtesy (and also to be able to look at her from behind in peace for a few moments).

They made their way to the Great Hall without saying a word, each studiously keeping their distance from each other. After what each felt was an eternity they reached the large doors to the hall where they were met by a severe looking McGonagall and a dour Snape.

"The prefects are already positioned inside as greeters and the doors will be open to students in a matter of moments."

Here Snape took over from McGonagall, looking for all the world as if he would love to be swallowed by the earth at this very moment. Hermione laughed to herself as she thought of Professor Snape dancing. It was just unimaginable. "You two will enter with the last of the students at approximately eight o clock and will take your places in the center of the dance floor. You will dance one dance together and then will be free to do as you wish. Remember that you are the Heads of this school and are expected to act as such."

Hermione snorted delicately. Sure, she had been to dances before and she knew how people danced, but did McGonagall really expect either her or Blaise to dance like that? Realising that McGonagall was finished speaking, both Heads nodded and both wandered to the opposite wall and leaned against it after being dismissed by a curt nod from McGonagall.

A thought suddenly occurred to Hermione. "Can you dance?"

Blaise threw a quick glance toward her and nodded curtly. Years upon years of tedious Pureblood functions pretty much took care of that aspect and he was completely confident in his abilities, however the look on her face suggested otherwise. Before he could think of asking her if she could dance as well, McGonagall was motioning them through the door and suddenly they were thrust into the dim Hall.

Taking initiative, Blaise led Hermione to the centre of the remarkably brightly lit floor and tried to ignore the stares of the entire school fourth year and up. They stood awkwardly, all eyes on them, while The Howling Banshees, the band for the evening and the newest rage among the young wizards of England (they had topped the Wizard's Wireless Charts for over nine weeks), trooped up on stage wearing an assortment of clothing so bright and mismatched it was hard to look at them.

"Alright folks, let's roll," exclaimed the exuberant and dashingly handsome front man. With his pronouncement the band began a slow waltzing tune.

After staring at each other for a few awkward moments Blaise grabbed Hermione's hand and settled his other on her waist as hers fell gracefully on his shoulder. Blaise began to move, the pattern ingrained deeply in his mind, while Hermione floated prettily along with him (all the while concentrating on not stepping on her partner's feet.)

Both avoided each other's eyes, Blaise staring over her head and Hermione at his chest. Yet as much as they ignored each other, they both became very aware of the other. Blaise was shocked to find how small she was in comparison to him, while Hermione, who always knew he was a tall boy, was at least a head and a half shorter than him.

After minutes of all eyes on them the ending notes sounded and Hermione and Blaise parted, quickly swept apart by the sea of students ready to partake of the immorality sure to come. The band quickly struck up a much faster song and the student body suddenly convulsed into movement. It struck Blaise as disturbing and animalistic, yet somehow strangely inviting. Shaking his head and quickly dismissing the idea, he headed toward the refreshment table where he could see Draco's platinum blonde hair flashing.

"Hey, Blaise. Didn't manage to get a date, huh?" Blaise so wanted to wipe the smirk off of the boy's face, but refrained, reminding himself he was the Head Boy and thus had to appear like he had common sense.

"Yeah, because you totally showed me up on that front, Draco." He threw a derisive look towards the pug like girl standing a few feet away.

"Man, fuck you," Draco shot back, but couldn't help also throwing a disgusted look at Pansy, who was currently wearing way too much makeup and engaged in an animated conversation with Millicent Bulstrode.

Near them was a strange couple: Zeller and Malcolm. If he were a hopeless romantic or even in the mood to appreciate the irony, he might have laughed. However at this moment he only made a mental note to berate Malcolm for having such low standards.

_Though, _Blaise countered himself in his head, _he is dancing with someone, instead of looking like an idiot standing here all alone._

Deciding that this simply would not do, he looked around the hall, ignoring the inviting looks of a couple of Slytherin fourth years. Finally he found his prey and immediately hated himself for it.

Sighing and wondering who had taken control of his body, he slowly made his way to the table where Hermione Granger was sitting alone and looking very bored. Smirking as a tap on her shoulder startled her from whatever thoughts had been running through her head, Blaise offered his hand to her.

"What's that for?"

"Dance with me Granger." Okay, the shocked look on her face was definitely worth any sort of social suicide that he would suffer.

"Why would you want to do that Zabini?" She seemed genuinely shocked at the proposition and Blaise was a bit put off.

"I haven't danced all night, and neither have you. Plus we're Heads. It's, like, required." He kept his face impassive, fighting the urge to grin as Hermione analyzed him with a look of utter suspicion on her face.

"_You and I are past our dancing days_," she finally decided.

"Oh come on Granger. It's _not stepping o'er the bounds of modesty._"

She thought back on her conversation with Ron and Harry earlier. Would she so quickly disregard her promise?

"_I think it's fair enough that I need to be careful around him. That I stay away from him as much as possible." _

_Yes_, she decided, _I'm going to forget about being responsible for now._

"Well, I suppose. Even though I have no idea why you would willingly want to dance with me."

"Oh, do shut up and just dance with me. I swear I'm not going to do anything to you. What kind of Head Boy would I be then?" Giving him a dirty look as he smirked down at the short girl, she stood up and grabbed his proffered arm, obviously trying to keep a smile from her face. He drew her closer to his side as they worked their way through the tightly packed crowd, finally ending up next to a large group of sixth and seventh year Slytherins.

"Scared?"

"Of course not. Why would I be scared of some snakes?" spat Hermione, angry that he would put her in such a trying situation. She recalled the conflicting personas of the boy she was with and immediately regretted her agreement to dance with Blaise.

"Oh come off it now. Don't be like that." Hermione saw his face soften and his mouth form into his strange half smile, a somehow familiar gesture that soothed her frayed nerves.

"Now, _wisely and slow; they stumble that run fast_," he began, not sure that she was the sort of girl who would do such… indecent things such as those that Pansy was enacting on Draco just a few feet away.

To his chagrin, she laughed in his face and threw her arms up in the air and began swiveling her hips in time with the pulsing beat of the music. Blaise was stunned, to put it simply: he had inklings that she wasn't just a bookworm, but he (or anyone else) would not have expected her to be a superbly sultry dancer, either.

"Come on Zabini. Get that Pureblood stick out of your ass and come dance like a Muggle."

Shaking his head and marveling at her seemingly instantaneous change from bookworm to clubbing veteran, he grabbed her wrists and spun her around until her backside was pressed firmly to his front. They began to sway with the music, her hands again reaching toward the ceiling as his tentatively encircled her waist.

This was _certainly_ not his forte. For one, he was decidedly uncomfortable with _anyone_ pressed up against him in such a way in any situation and secondly, he had no idea how to dance like this. He knew stiff and regimented dances, but letting loose like this was entirely new, foreign, and embarrassing for him. It was sweat, flying hair, pure unadulterated sexuality: nothing that related to Blaise Zabini in any way.

But he had put himself into this mess, so he couldn't back out now.

He felt Hermione tense up as his hands pulled their hips as close as possible even as the crowd enclosed upon then, closer and closer. "Don't worry, I don't bite. Unless that's your thing." She laughed and he felt relief when her body unwound.

She wound her arms around his neck and he continued to follow the movements, enjoying the freedom of this kind of dance. _Well, the Muggles did at least one thing right, I guess. _Suddenly Hermione spun around to face him, her hands suddenly running through his long hair and down the sides of his face, causing him to groan with excitement, hoping she couldn't hear it over the pounding of the music. Through the heady pleasure of these sensations he wondered where in the bloody hell this Head Girl had gotten her moves.

The dance was over too quickly for both Heads, though neither would admit to it. With his almost smile gracing his face he leaned over, raising his voice enough so he could be heard over the ringing in their ears. "Where'd that come from Granger? Who knew that Hogwarts' resident Head Girl was also a minx?"

"Do stuff it Blaise. I know I'm just boring old Hermione, but give me a little credit for having a real life."

"Oh come now, after _that_, you can't expect to get away without a good deal of taunting!"

"Zabini! You are an insufferable prat! Just drop it, okay? Merlin! You're not even worth my trouble!" Hermione couldn't help but be hurt by the malicious insinuation that dripped from his voice. He had basically called her a tart, and that was _not_ acceptable.

"_And patience, tame to sufferance, bide each cheque, Without accusing you of injury._"

This seemed to silence Hermione's anger and for an indefinable moment they stood among the sea of dancing students, a moment frozen in time that went unnoticed by everyone else. Blaise saw hurt in her eyes and was reminded of the last time they were in Hogsmeade:

"_I guess if I'm going to be neutral, I have to make sure that each side has the same information."_

_Hermione's eyes narrowed. "Well, I'll be sure never to tell you anything important."_

Suddenly he felt the need to make himself up to her; why, he could not say. "Look, I… I just want you to know. I would never give your secrets to Draco. Or anyone." His eyes bore into Hermione's with such a passionate, tragic intensity that she felt as if she might be sick.

Finally Hermione broke the moment with a shake of her head and Blaise was surprised to find that her eyes were glistening wish unshed tears. She stepped forward gave him a tight hug, quickly releasing him and walked off, leaving him alone.

But as he watched her walk away, something in him snapped and he strode quickly, pushing the other students out of his path. He reached the doors and quickly looked about, seeing Hermione's retreating figure hurrying down the left passage. He soon caught up to her and he could tell that she was crying, unable to hear him approach.

"I want you to know that I don't want your pity."

She let out a muffled shriek and whirled around; she relaxed only slightly when she saw it was him. "Well maybe you need it. Maybe you're just too damn stubborn to realise that you need pity because where you are right now is not where you should be. Plus, who are you to tell me what to feel? I'll do what I will, and you don't have a say in it at all!"

He stepped forward, causing her to take a large step back. "Maybe you should stop telling me how I should think. We could have had a… a friendship but you couldn't just accept it at that, could you?"

"No, no I couldn't because you are an utter prat that is so utter screwed up that you can't form an attachment to anything or anyone if you tried!"

Her eyes were large and frightened as he towered over her, his body nearly pressed onto hers, a strange parody of their dancing only minutes ago. Finally, when it seemed Hermione's heart might explode from her racing pulse Blaise's mouth landed firmly and roughly on her mouth, giving her a swift and vicious kiss that would surely draw blood and leave bruising tomorrow morning, when all of this would seem like a surreal dream.

"God DAMN you Granger. Maybe I don't form attachments, but see what the fuck it does to _you._" With that startling pronouncement, he turned on his heel and angrily stomped down the hall, undoubtedly to sulk in his room for the night.

-----

Okay, so Blaise is sort of cryptic here, but in the next chapter you'll see how true his last words are. Let's just say Hermione is going to have one hell of a time with Blaise. Plus there are a bunch of loose threads in here, but don't worry. Next chapter we'll be seeing more of Draco being evil, Runes, and so many other fun things it will _blow your mind_!

Haha. Yes. So review, please!


	6. Chapter 6

Wow. It's been a while hasn't it? Well, prepare to be amazed! (Maybe.) Anyway, just go ahead and read it.

And basically, the sonnet I found is absolutely perfect for this chapter, because everyone is just so damn confused! Ah the teen angst involved.

-----

**Division**

Mnemosynesque

Summary: Blaise Zabini, social recluse extraordinaire, after two days of shocking speech, has once again fallen back into silence. Hermione, starting the week out with a new friend, is now forced to live with a boy who hates her guts. However when the Yule Ball makes an appearance things get strange again... However, maybe there is a little hope for the duo, provided they can put aside their massive egos and forget their past dramas.

Rating: PG-13 still, just because it's really hard to change the rating on here and I'm a massive bum.

Disclaimer: Some things in life are simply unattainable. This would be one of them, unfortunately. This is J. K. Rowling's. I haven't got a chance of owning it, so screw you.

-----

**Chapter Six: Weary With Toil, I Haste Me To My Bed**

_Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed,_

_The dear repose for limbs with travel tired;_

_But then begins a journey in my head,_

_To work my mind, when body's work's expired:_

_For then my thoughts, from far where I abide,_

_Intend a zealous pilgrimage to thee,_

_And keep my drooping eyelids open wide,_

_Looking on darkness which the blind do see_

_Save that my soul's imaginary sight_

_Presents thy shadow to my sightless view,_

_Which, like a jewel hung in ghastly night,_

_Makes black night beauteous and her old face new._

_Lo! thus, by day my limbs, by night my mind,_

_For thee and for myself no quiet find._

_-Sonnet XXVII_

_Her eyes were large and frightened as he towered over her, his body nearly pressed onto hers, a strange parody of their dancing only minutes ago. Finally, when it seemed Hermione's heart might explode from her racing pulse Blaise's mouth landed firmly and roughly on her mouth, giving her a swift and vicious kiss that would surely draw blood and leave bruising tomorrow morning, when all of this would seem like a surreal dream._

The night's events kept running through Hermione Granger's mind, over and over. Her overly analytical mind was, at this time at least, a burden as she couldn't stop thinking and reviewing the scenes in her head.

Time and time again she felt Blaise's soft lips cover hers, his hot breath rushing in a scalding current down her cheek. She was shocked that in that split second of physical contact she could have felt so much. She felt her pulse begin to race (how many times had it done that in the past hours she had spent tossing and turning, her mind holding her hostage against her own will) as she remembered _him_.

His words were equally cryptic and tantalising. In fact, Blaise had been that way the whole night, his hot and cold personality seemingly working overtime_. "God DAMN you Granger. Maybe I don't form attachments, but see what the fuck it does to you."_

Yet as she got more and more caught up in her thoughts, she began to realise that his statement was true. Although Hermione Granger the bookworm was not known for her romantic escapades, she did form very strong bonds with people, whether she let it be widely known or not. Blaise had sealed her attachment to him with that swift kiss that she could still feel on her lips.

Tenderly she pulled her arms from under the constrictive sheets and felt her softly parted lips that would still be easily seen as swollen if the lights were on. Smiling, Hermione decided that for once she would live a little, and just enjoy that moment like any other girl would without regret.

Even after that particularly sinful and fun thought, Hermione still had trouble sleeping: "_For thee and for myself no quiet find_,"she murmured quietly to herself as she struggled to find a comfortable spot in her bed.

On the other side of the wall Blaise lay face down on his silken sheets, his journal lying open on the bed next to him. It read (in a slightly edited version):

_"Hermione Granger. Of course the most brilliant _**obnoxiously sugar sweet **_witch in school, stupid girl always beats me as well. Can't say how much it bothers me, but she obviously deserves it. She's the only other person I know with the same ridiculous work ethic combined with terminal insomnia that I've been plagued with. She's friends with Harry Potter and Weasley, but she's the third wheel of the Golden Trio. She tends to be rather oblivious to the outside world, and more focused on dreams and goals. Can't say I agree with this way of living, but I admire it._

"_She is very independent and she has an amazingly frightening mind for logic. She has excruciatingly high standards for her work and I think that sometimes she pushes herself too far. But who am I to say, really? She seems to be a natural leader, but defers to others because of low self esteem, I think. Many people think she's arrogant, but she's just a psychotic perfectionist._** she is. **

"_She's one of the few people I can stand _**I can't stand her**, **so **_but I only talk to her rarely, and when I do I sound like a complete idiot. It's not my fault I hate public speaking, while she's always such a loud mouth. Her loud mouth, though, tends to be a cover for her insecurities. Shockingly, Miss Perfect (if you look hard enough) is very insecure about herself, though she really oughtent be. Her legs, for example, are often the talk of the boy's loo after a hot Saturday outside by the lake…"_

Sighing loudly and annoying even himself, Blaise lifted his head and saw that he had red lines from his blanket pressed on his face as he stared into the mirror opposite of his bed. It was nearly three in the morning and Blaise was still up, cursing himself for his actions. True, kidding Hermione had been nothing more than something to completely drive her mad, but it unnerved him how she made him act so erratically.

Yet, if he did let himself be truthful, he rather did enjoy acting more radically and like a teenaged boy. And perhaps that wasn't such a bad thing; maybe he could just be a teen for a while.

He flipped himself around so his head rest on his pillows and he began to contemplate the feel of his lips on hers…

_He was walking innocently down the hall on the way back from the lake and a brief swim when he heard footsteps behind him, but he didn't think much of it. But... Blaise wasn't sure how exactly it happened, but one moment he was walking down the halls of Hogwarts (minding his own business) and the next he was pressed up against the wall near the Potion's room, being set upon by one sexed up Hermione Granger._

_Her skirt (as he got a quick glance of it before it became pressed up against him) was a good deal shorter and she had lost the frumpy white knee highs she so favoured, completely baring her legs. However the most blatant thing (that any guy would notice really, but moreso since it was directly under his eyes) was her chest, exposed by the two buttons that really ought never be buttoned up._

_"Good Merlin Granger! What's gotten you all tarted up?" His long, dark arms held her away as far as possible and he couldn't help but be amused at how put out she looked by the distance. _

_"Ginny," she replied simply and blandly, causing Blaise to sputter in a very uncouth, un-Slytherin way._

_"What in the bloody hell are you talking about you nut?"_

_Raising her eyes so she was looking him full in the eyes (which made him remarkably nervous for some reason) she said, "Ginny said that I need to-" at this point she looked at the floor, blushing slightly but still managing to look adamant "-that I needed to get revenge on you. I thought it was entirely unnecessary," she added quickly, "but the more she talked about revenge, the better it sounded. But now... I just feel like an idiot."_

_"And you just let the little Weasel talk you into this? Without a fight? How utterly out of character for you, Granger."_

_"Well you weren't exactly acting in character last night, Head Boy, so I would suggest you not try to taunt me about it." She was pleased to see a definite flush stain the Head Boy's cheeks as he recalled the previous night's indiscretions. "And," she said on a more serious note, "I just wanted to feel like a... regular teenager. I mean, before... everything begins."_

_Blaise nodded, realising that she was referring to the increasing amount of attacks that were going on in both the Muggle and Wizarding worlds. "Yes, well..." He trailed off awkwardly, unwilling to meet her eyes._

_Yet, to Hermione's embarrassment (and secretly, delight), he somehow managed to move his eyes away from her own by staring very blatantly over her halfway exposed chest. Suddenly, he felt very happier._

_And happier still as she pressed closer and brought his face closer to his…_

Blaise's eyes snapped open, cursing his body, who had chosen to wake him up at the most inopportune time. Though, he supposed it was for the best. He needn't be thinking of the Head Girl in such a way… it could surely only lead to trouble.

"Hey!"

He blinked and brought his eyes up to meet hers. "What?"

"God, what's wrong with you Zabini?"

_I'm apparently having fantasies about the Head Girl._ However he banished that image from his mind as he realised she was talking again.

"…I said as much as we hate each other, we really need to do this Ancient Runes project. So after lunch we should meet up in the library. I mean, if that's okay with you, that is." Suddenly she seemed very nervous, as if she hadn't really meant to ask him.

"Yes, yes. That's fine." He couldn't help but to sneak a peek at Hermione, and to his shock her top two buttons were indeed undone, exactly as in his fantasy.

_Damn Ginny!_ Hermione thought as she saw Zabini very obviously ogle her naked chest…

…_Hermione had stomped into the Gryffindor Common Room at roughly noon of the day after the Ball. She didn't notice anyone through her haze of indignation until Ginny, who was sitting on the opposite couch of the one she now occupied, was unable to contain her laughter._

_"And why, may I ask, do you want Ginny?" _

_"Oh Hermione, you just looked so funny, you were completely on the bloody warpath! What's got your knickers in a twist?"_

_"Nothing has my knickers in a twist, Ginny," snapped Hermione, but with a look from Ginny she quickly related the previous night's events._

_At the end, Ginny's eyes were wide. "Wow. You kissed Blaise? Blaise Zabini?"_

_"Yes! Merlin Ginny, don't sound so shocked!"_

_"Oh Hermione! This is fantastic!"_

_"What? No!" Ginny obviously must have misunderstood her. "He obviously did it just to mess with my mind, which has worked very well so far, I might add."_

_"Well yes, but now you can get back at him."_

"_Ginny. Calm yourself dear. There is NO way I'm going to do anything of the sort!"_

"_Oh but come on Hermione! It'll be great fun! And we'll eve start easy." And before Hermione knew it Ginny had bounded over to her and nearly ripped off her blouse. "There, now off you go dear!"_

_And for the next ten minutes they fought as Hermione attempted to rebutton her shirt while Ginny angrily swatted her hands away each time. Finally Hermione had just conceded and left to go to lunch, resolving to just fix her shirt later._

"Right. Let's go."

"Us?" Hermione looked confused, both from being drawn from her memories as well as Blaise's words.

"Yes." He dragged the word out for her. "As we are together and we're going to the same place, it would seem beneficial to go together. Is there a problem?"

"Uh, no. Not at all. Just surprised that you would want to be seen with me."

"I know. My stellar reputation will be marred." He smirked at the small smile on her face. "Let's go."

They began walking down the empty halls together, enveloped in a blanket of uncomfortable silence, as if someone had placed an extremely strong Silencing Charm around them. After they had hopped down the third moving staircase, Hermione felt that she had to break the silence.

"So, Zabini. I've been reading this book--" she decided to ignore his derisive snort, "and I think that you should take a look at it. It's fairly interesting and it had some good background stuff on the project we have to do. It's called The Sorcerer's Companion: A Guide to Arithmetic Numbers, by Glinda Bott. She's somehow related to Bertie Bott and I think that she…"

"Enough Granger. Merlin, you do talk a lot, don't you?"

"Why, yes, I suppose I do. Though I have heard you babble on occasion Mr. Zabini."

He gave her a dark look. "Well, can I have the book?"

She glanced at him from under her eyelashes. "After making fun of me? I don't know."

Rolling his eyes, Blaise reached toward her messenger bag, recognizing the book's colorful binding from the book that she had been reading in class. Before she could do anything more than make a noise of muted protest and a quick slap of his hand, he had grabbed it from her bag and was flipping through it casually.

"And here I was under the impression that you were a gentleman."

"Well, you're quite wrong." He smirked again. The more he had hung around Draco Malfoy, the more he had caught onto that particular habit.

They had almost reached the Great Hall and could even hear the dull roar of students enjoying their midday meal when she wrapped her slim fingers around his arm, effectively pulling him to a halt. He turned around, a mixture of irritation and confusion gracing his features.

"What do you want?" As Blaise asked this question, however, he was not looking at her face, but at her hand, so casually wrapped around his arm. How could she possibly be so used to _touching_ people like that? It was just utterly foreign to him.

"I. I just wanted to know…" She seemed to be losing her nerve, so she quickly spit it out. "Are we okay?"

His eyes flew up to her own as he considered her. Hermione found it a decidedly uncomfortable experience. "I suppose... Spending a whole year avoiding my co-Head would be obnoxious. Not to mention my house is entirely filled with idiots and, as much as your horrible excuse of a house deters me, you _are_ the most intelligent witch in our year. So… It just makes sense for us to work together."

Hermione's eyes sparkled. "I think you just complimented me, Zabini."

"You would think that, Granger, wouldn't you?"

Hermione's laugh quickly abated. "Oh you... You. Argh! You… Utinam logica falsa tuam philosophiam totam suffodiant!"

Blaise couldn't help it. He abandoned his façade and his cynicism for a brief time and burst out laughing. "Only you, Granger. Only you would… would… would be lost for words in English and resort to-to-to Latin!" He was nearly doubled over as he gasped for breath.

"I'm glad you find my intelligence so amusing. I thought I had just heard that you might have… dare I say, enjoyed it?"

"Granger, not only do you have the misfortune to be a Gryffindor, you're now delusional. Why in the bloody hell would I ever complement the likes of _you_?"

"Right. Of course. How could I have been so stupid?" Hermione couldn't help but laugh at the boy's obvious amusement. She supposed that it was rather dorky of her, though in her defense, it was the only Latin phrase she knew, other than spells.

"That, Granger, is utterly beyond me. Now, if you'd kindly let go of me, I'm going to have lunch."

"Right. Sorry." She quickly released him and gave another tentative smile.

"Oh, by the way, how's that whole attachment thing going for you?" Due to hot blush rushing up her cheeks, he decided he knew the answer. He blatantly ignored what it was doing to _him_, and he was glad that she was not enough of a Slytherin to garner on to any of his perverted thoughts. "Well, let's go to lunch."

-----

_Speaking of lunch_, Blaise though, _This lunch is entirely miserable._ Goyle was being more obnoxious than usual and Crabbe seemed (if humanly possible) _thicker_ than possible.

"If only we could find him," mused Goyle. "We could join him. We could aid _the cause_."

Vincent Crabbe grunted unintelligibly as he dug into his plate of scrambled eggs, apparently his form of communication.

"If we could just get a message to him. I mean, why didn't he tell us that he was leaving?"

They were, of course, referring to Draco being pulled out of school for a week due to "family emergencies." If Voldemort was part of their family, sure…

Pansy's high, nasally voice penetrated even thicker into Blaise's foggy brain. "You two are _hardly _important enough for my dear Draco to tell you about."

Crabbe grunted once more, driving Blaise over the edge.

Letting out a strangled groan of annoyance, Blaise rose from the table and swept from the Great Hall with a flourish of his robes that even the Potions Master would envy. He turned left when leaving the hall, intent upon spending a few hours in the library.

_At least I shan't be disturbed by those two idiots. I doubt they've ever set foot in there._

Setting his face back into its usual impassivity, he pushed open the door and stepped into the library, the familiar, musty smell of books filling his senses. Shaking himself from his ruminations, he started forward again, ignoring the useless greeting from Madame Pince. Before he could reach his usual table in a far corner of the library (ironically located near the section of Muggle Classics) he was passed by a frazzled looking Hermione Granger who seemed to be carrying at least half of the library's massive Ancient Runes section.

"Hey," he called out, obviously surprising the Head Girl out of her book induced coma. "Let me take some of those."

He grabbed most of the daunting pile and, with a grunt as the full weight of the books fell on his arms, followed Hermione to a table she had obviously staked out for their uses.

"So Granger, what have you found so far?"

From under a pile of parchment she managed to unearth a large tome and pointed to a particular passage.

"_Ehwaz can also represent greater progress made through advantageous partnerships, just as a man is able to make more progress with the aid of a horse than on foot. These need not necessarily be partnerships with living things. The horse as a method of conveyance, has been mostly replaced by automobiles. These are not living things, but they are, nonetheless, useful partnerships that aid speedy progress. _

"_Magically Ehwaz can be useful in summoning methods for aiding advancement and progress. This advancement may be through opportunities to make useful connections with others, or to "connect" to useful knowledge or equipment that will speed your progress._

"_This rune may also be worked to bring or summon forth a partnership where one is needed, perhaps in business, commerce, or battle. This work may include the formation of alliances._

_In divination it will often appear when a partnership is being formed, or when help or aid in any endeavor can be expected and this rune can represent any of the following forces."_

"Partnership, eh? Well, at least we know Professor Vance has a sense of humor." He threw a slight grin at Hermione and continued to read through Hermione's selected passage.

He was completely immersed in his studies until he was drawn out by a disapproving huff from across the table. He looked up and saw an annoyed brunette.

Before he could ask what was wrong he heard confident footsteps approaching and a grating voice.

"Why the hell are you hanging out with a Mudblood, Blaise?" The look of utter disgust on Draco Malfoy's face was enough to make anyone cringe.

"Draco, let her be, we're just working on a Runes project." Blaise put a warning look on his face, stood, and asked, "What do you want?"

"Before you go back to your room, come down to the Slytherin Common room. I need to speak to you about something."

Blaise nodded quickly and looked Draco over. He didn't look any worse for his "adventure" but there was certainly something off about him tonight. "Are you alright mate?"

Draco threw a scathing look at him. "Of course I'm fine Blaise." Blaise thought he caught something flash in the young Malfoy's eyes, but before he could comprehend it Draco nodded quickly and walked away, turning back only to say, "Remember, come by tonight."

When he was out of ear shot Hermione gave him a scandalized look. "You're actually going?"

"Yes, yes of course." Oh yes, he would be there. But only briefly. Then he had a long night of his mind, Hermione Granger, her legs, and most importantly, her chest.

------

"Enter."

Blaise stepped through the door, waves of nostalgia coursing through him as he remembered the good times had in these rooms. As much as he loathed his classmates now, earlier in their lives, before this war, had been a good time.

"Hey Draco. What did you want to see me about?"

Draco turned around from the window he was looking out of and Blaise could see the obvious fear in the boy's eyes. "I had to go to a revel tonight. It- it was horrible. I thought it was all fun and games when I would hear about it. But when I had to actually see it… Actually _do_ it… It was completely different."

Blaise nodded, keeping his face bland. "Have I not mentioned before that killing isn't as easy as it seems?"

"But you've never _done_ it, Blaise! You can't possibly know…"

"I know Draco, and I'm sorry that you had to go through it." He looked up, realising that Draco was staring right through him as if he couldn't hear Blaise at all.

"I- I don't know what to do Blaise. It was supposed to be so easy. But now…"

-----

A/N: Alrighty then! Drop me a line and let me know what you think. (And I'm sorry for the long lapse in updating. Life + a huge lack of reviews me not updating!)


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Okay, so I've been reading a bunch of stories and always the characters are _in love_ with each other.. I just think that's really weird. I mean, in all honesty I can't see my characters getting together amid various declarations of love. I know I certainly haven't experienced love and I don't think a level headed witch like Hermione would fall deeply in love at the drop of the hat (nor Blaise, either).

Well... Enough incoherence...That's all I've to say.

-----

**Division**

Mnemosynesque

Summary: Blaise Zabini, social recluse extraordinaire, after two days of shocking speech, has once again fallen back into silence. Hermione, starting the week out with a new friend, is now forced to live with a boy who hates her guts. However when the Yule Ball makes an appearance things get strange again… But perhaps there is hope for the odd duo if they can put aside their differences and stop being so damn hormonal.

Rating: PG-13 still, just because it's too damn difficult to change the rating on here.

Disclaimer: Some things in life are simply unattainable. This would be one of them, unfortunately. This is J. K. Rowling's. I haven't got a chance of owning it, so screw you.

-----

**Chapter Seven:** **As those two mourning eyes become thy face**

_Thine eyes I love, and they, as pitying me,  
Knowing thy heart torments me with disdain,  
Have put on black and loving mourners be,  
Looking with pretty truth upon my pain.  
And truly not the morning sun of heaven  
Better becomes the grey cheeks of the east,  
Nor that full star that ushers in the even,  
Doth half that glory to the sober west,  
As those two mourning eyes become thy face: _

_O! let it then as well beseem thy heart  
To mourn for me since mourning doth thee grace,  
And suit thy pity like in every part.  
Then will I swear beauty herself is black,  
And all they foul that thy complexion lack._

Hermione hurried down the halls, shivering from the chills of the brisk December weather. She glanced at the large grandfather clock positioned outside of the library and found she was nearly fifteen minutes late for her study session with Blaise. Cursing softly under her breath she rushed into the library, the doors banging loudly.

She ignored the scandalized glance that a sleepy looking Madame Pince threw her as she caught sight of Blaise, apparently the only inhabitant other than the Madame herself. Grinning softly, she watched Blaise read, knowing how hard it was to rouse him from a book. After many nights of banging on his door to no avail simply because he was too engrossed in a book she had learned that she had to be assertive in getting his attention. So she slammed down her books on the table (ignoring the "hmph" from the librarian), effectively rousing Blaise from his stupor.

"Merlin Granger! Have a care will you, it's a damned library."

"Oh, so sorry. I hadn't noticed." Grinning, she set her books aside more carefully and took a seat across the table from the dark Slytherin.

Smirking, Blaise glanced past her and looked at the clock. "Goodness Granger… Ten points from Gryffindor for being late." At the murderous look on Hermione's face at the point deduction, he hastily amended, "Just kidding of course. I don't think I can even take points from you."

"Well I was just about to apologise to you for being late, but now I don't think I will." She looked very haughty and pleased with herself. "And, if you were a more dedicated Head, you would know that you can in fact take points away from a fellow Head. Like any other point deductions, they can be added again by a higher authority."

Blaise smirked as Hermione jokingly turned up her nose. "So tell me, why were you late?"

"I was just seeing Ron and Harry off. They're both going off to the Burrow for the holidays and they spend every last second trying to convince me to come." As she had just stated, the Hogwarts' Express had only just left the chilly Hogsmeade station. For some reason the holidays had started extremely late this year, this very day being the 23rd, only a day before Christmas Eve.

"Why didn't you go with them then, if your lover boys so obviously wanted you to come with them?"

"Don't call them that, and I just wanted to stay. My parents are planning to go off to Germany the day after Christmas anyway. And… I just wanted to stay! You know, for research and stuff…" Hermione flushed slightly and Blaise could tell she was hiding something, but he didn't bother to press her.

Sighing slightly Hermione pulled out her notes and Blaise soon followed suit. The next ten minutes were spent in a comfortable silence that was only interrupted by Blaise's foot tapping, faster and faster as time went on. Hermione looked up irritably and found Blaise apparently staring at her intently, though seemingly unaware of it.

"Do you have something to say or would you rather just stare at me all day?"

Jolting at Hermione's irritable voice, Blaise smiled sheepishly and shook his head. "Sorry Granger. It's just that… that I've got a lot on my mind right now." The past night had nearly driven him mad, and as Hermione looked closer she could see definite signs of exhaustion on the wizard's face.

Seeing his serious face Hermione's interest was instantly peaked, as well as her concern. "Would you like to talk about it?"

"I'm not sure if I should. But-- yes," he admitted. He looked around him, seemingly to check that no one would overhear their conversation.

"There's no one else here but the Librarian! Everyone sane has gone home for vacation!"

Blaise ignored the Gryffindor, making Hermione wonder what could possibly be so important. Seeing no one, he finally began his tale…

"_Hey Draco. What did you want to see me about?" After Blaise had walked Hermione back to their rooms he had continued down the hall until reaching the Slytherin common room. He would have rather avoided a confrontation with Draco altogether, but decided that he should go and at least see what the boy wanted._

_Draco turned around from the window he was looking out of and Blaise could see the obvious fear in the boy's eyes. "I had to go to a revel tonight. It- it was horrible. I thought it was all fun and games when I would hear about it. But when I had to actually see it… Actually do it… It was completely different."_

_Blaise nodded, striving to keep emotion from his face. "Have I not mentioned before that killing isn't as easy as it seems?"_

"_But you've never done it, Blaise! You can't possibly know…"_

"_I know Draco, and I'm sorry that you had to go through it." He looked up, realising that Draco was staring right through him as if he couldn't hear Blaise at all. With a growing unease Blaise realised that his friend looked very close to tears._

"_I- I don't know what to do Blaise. It was supposed to be so easy. But now…"_

"So he seems to be turning anti Voldemort?" Hermione was intrigued by the idea, and unable to stop herself from interrupting Blaise's story.

"Yes, it would seem so," Blaise said slowly, not sure that Draco would be any proponent of the "good" side anytime soon. "Now be quiet and let me continue."

_Blaise walked towards the boy very slowly, unsure of what to do. At one time in their lives the Pureblood boys had been very good friends, but over the years they had grown apart. It had been for many reasons: Draco's incessant girl chasing versus Blaise's constant studying, but mostly it had been Draco's fanatical preoccupation with the Dark Arts, and his subsequent descent into evil._

"_Draco, I don't know what to tell you. I tried to warn you about selling your soul to this man, but you did it anyway and now it's too late to turn back."_

"_No!" The look on Draco's face was one of such pain that a weaker man than Blaise might have cried at the sight. "It can't be too late! I'm just young… It- it… There must be something I can do." In two steps he was just a foot away from Blaise._

"_Draco…"_

_Before he could say anything that would never actually comfort the turmoil within the boy Draco had fallen to his knees in front of Blaise and seemed to be crying._

"_Help me Blaise. Merlin, I need help." Draco's excruciatingly thin back shook with… something and the sight was so pitiful Blaise had to turn away, feeling an overwhelming urge to chuck something._

Blaise looked up and saw Hermione with tears coursing down her cheeks. He was slightly shocked, but at he thought about it Hermione's compassion for anyone, including a very lost and tormented Draco Malfoy, wasn't all that implausible.

"Wow."

"Yeah, I wasn't really sure how to react to it either. A Draco Malfoy with remorse is not something I'm used to."

Hermione seemed deep in thought as she leaned back in her chair, tipping precariously on two legs, and Blaise resisted the urge to pull the chair back to stability.

"Well perhaps Dumbledore was right. Some people like Malfoy _can _prove themselves with second chances. Why perhaps the Ord-" She immediately broke off unwilling to make eye contact with Blaise.

"What was that?"

"Oh, it's nothing." _Except for the fact that I nearly revealed the secret anti Voldemort organization. _"Just… Just something that I can't tell you."

She immediately felt bad as Blaise got a hurt look on his face. "Right, because I'm not part of the bloody Light Side. Right."

"Blaise," she sighed painfully, "we were doing so well. Please let's not start this now." Hermione really did not feel up to another explosive argument about what Blaise should or should not do with his life.

Blaise gave her one more disappointed look, but let the matter drop and left her in her thoughts. Meanwhile he struggled within himself to reveal the latter part of his conversation with Draco Malfoy, but for some reason he refused to burden Hermione with his own problems…

_After many minutes of silence Draco came to sit beside Blaise on one of the lush beds. Blaise noted that Draco's alabaster face once again reflected absolutely no emotion and he was unable to tell if the boy had actually cried or not._

_Finally Draco broke the tense silence. "I'm sorry about all this." His voice was gruff and the words of apology sounded strange in his mouth. "But you were the only one I could think of that I could trust." At this statement Blaise looked at Draco sharply and was unnerved to find the grey eyes meet his just as intensely. "But I will have you know-- there was another reason for calling you."_

"_Well I just feel all special now."_

"_Shut it Blaise, this is serious, and it all boils down to this: my Master is greatly displeased with you not choosing his side. He has said as much to most of the Death Eaters about you and the others that are undecided."_

_Of course Draco was referring to Blaise as well as one Theodore Nott, who had been surprisingly resistant to the idea of becoming a Death Eater, especially since his father was well up on the social standings in the group._

"_So? Voldemort can shove it as well as I care!"_

"_Don't say his name!" Blaise rolled his eyes in irritation as the other boy winced visibly. "But he wanted me to tell you that, as a Pureblooded, of age wizard, he expects you to take the Dark Mark. And soon."_

_Blaise stared at Draco, his mouth hanging open. "What? Why could he possibly want me? I'm not exactly the most useful thing to have around, as you can attest to after six years of living together."_

_A smile ghosted across Draco's face but came nowhere near reaching his eyes. _"_Hmm, let's think about this Blaise," Draco said, his voice laden with sarcasm, "you're young, powerful, and Pureblood."_

"_Well I won't join him!" Blaise seemed more surprised by his own outburst than Draco did._

"_So you're with that Mudblood and her friends now, then? The little lapdogs of Dumbledore and the Ministry? How _could_ you Blaise? Even if you refuse to take your rightful place as a Pureblood, I can't believe you would go to them."_

"_I'm not, Draco. Don't worry. I told you, I'm remaining neutral."_

"_Impossible. Voldemort has made it very clear that he will get the support of _all _Pureblood families, which leaves your family, and you especially, in great danger."_

_Blaise's blood ran cold at this statement and he resisted the urge to run out of the gates of Hogwarts and apparate back to his mother. Instead he replied, "Draco, you're way off."_

"Blaise?" Blaise jerked his eyes up to meet Hermione's, cursing her inherently empathetic nature. "Is something wrong? You looked really worried."

He hesitated, again wondering if he should reveal his potentially compromising situation. "N-No, actually. Sorry, it's just this whole situation is a little overwhelming. I just never thought I'd have to deal with an emotional Draco Malfoy."

Unable to help it, Hermione cracked a smile despite the gravity of the situation, but quickly sobered as her analytical mind rushed through the situation. "We have to tell Dumbledore!"

"No! Absolutely not!"

Hermione was surprised by Blaise's outburst. "Why not? There's a chance that he could be saved. We need to take action!"

"Do you honestly think that a young boy like Draco Malfoy will react well if the authorities confront him about being a Death Eater?"

When Blaise put it like that, Hermione realised he did have a point. It would do the Order no good to try to "save" Draco all at once; it would surely do more harm than good. Blaise was right-- they would have to tread around this situation carefully, and probably act on it without the aid of any adults.

"You're right, of course," she said and sighed as she realised that she had no idea where to go with this situation. "Well look, it's nearly lunch, so let's go and then meet up afterwards, okay?"

Glancing at the large grandfather clock near the doors of the library he was surprised to find that it was nearly noon.

"Alright, it's a plan."

-----

Wandering into the Great Hall Hermione and Blaise started to realise that the House's tables had been gotten rid of in lieu of one larger table. Around it were about ten students, all seeming to be second and third year students except for Dean and Seamus of Gryffindor and a sixth year Hufflepuff that Hermione couldn't name. Dean and Seamus waved energetically at Hermione once they noticed her approach and she plopped down across from them, very surprised to find that Blaise took the seat next to her.

"Hey Hermione, Zabini," Dean acknowledged while subtly jabbing Seamus in the ribs to stop him from making any complaints about the quiet Slytherin. Dean, although a very explosive boy, had gotten over his hatred of Slytherin (or so rumor had it) after getting a great shag out of Pansy Parkinson.

"Hey Dean. Why are you staying for the holidays? I thought you usually went home."

"Well, I usually do, but me and Seamus--" at this point he ignored Hermione's muttering of "_Seamus and I_"--"are working on the Arithmacy project together and this is the only chance we've had to actually sit down and do a lot of research."

"Yes, and now we _have_ to do it today, because it's such a crappy day outside." All four seventh years glanced upwards involuntarily to take in the stormy grey of the enchanted ceiling.

Hermione nodded in a commiserating sort of way as she was also in the Arithmacy class with her fellow Gryffindors, although Blaise could bet that she was done with the project and had been done for a very long while.

Blaise chuckled softly at the camaraderie of the Gryffindors, something nearly unheard of in the isolation of the Slytherin house.

"What's so funny Zabini? I don't think I said anything funny." Hermione sent him a half-hearted glare that soon broke into a grin at the bemused look on Blaise's face.

"You Gryffindors are just so damn… nice. It's rather horrifying." He blatantly ignored the giggles of the girl beside him as well as the curious stares of several third years and instead focused on his massive salad.

"Only you would be horrified by people being nice to each other. Typical Slytherin attitude."

They ate in comfortable silence after that with the occasional burst of chatter between the three seventh year Gryffindors, until…

"Hey look, an owl! That's weird. They _never_ deliver at lunch."

Hermione looked up to where Dean's hand pointed. Owls at lunch were very unusual; they nearly always came at breakfast or into the House Commons. She was even more surprised to see the owl circling in on _her_ and she nervously untied the parchment from the owl's foot, wondering what it could possibly tell her.

She quickly opened the parchment her curiosity quickly turning to horror as she read. Abruptly (and before Blaise could a get a good read in over her shoulder) she stood and departed from the Great Hall.

As Blaise looked around he saw only whispering and obviously confused students until his eyes scanned the teacher's table. Unsurprisingly Headmaster Dumbledore did not look at all surprised, merely saddened. However Blaise was more interested in his Head of House's expression-- surprisingly Professor Snape looked as if he completely unfazed by the swift departure of the Head Girl.

_Why the hell would my Head of House know, but none of the other teachers?_

Standing up quickly Blaise mutter a quick goodbye to the confused Seamus and Dean before following in the footsteps of his recently departed co Head. He heard the doors of the Great Hall slam behind him as he pushed through them roughly, but quickly realised he had no idea where he was going to find Hermione.

Suddenly he thought back onto a conversation they had a few weeks previous…

"_Where have you been Granger? I've been trying to find you all afternoon; I needed your notes for the Charms class I missed last week before our patrol tonight."_

"_Oh, sorry Zabini. I've been down studying by the Whomping Willow all day."_

"_The Whomping Willow! Are you insane? That thing could kill you!" Blaise had refused to get anywhere near the blasted tree since his second year when a stray branch had broken his beautiful nose leaving a rather large bump that Draco had said "made him look like less of a girl."_

"_Oh, I have my ways." Hermione smiled softly as if she were keeping a delicious secret. "Plus, no one really ever goes near it, so it's the perfect place to escape when I need to get away from you lot…"_

It was perfect and it _had _to be where she was. Whenever the Terrible Two (as Blaise had dubbed Harry and Ron, much to Hermione's indignation and half amusement) upset Hermione she always fled there.

He quickly made his way down the large marble staircase that reminded him of seven years ago when he walked up them as a terrified First Year. He then entered the grand Entrance Hall and crossed over to the large wooden doors which took quite a bit of brute force to open.

He shivered as the cold winter air immediately soaked through his cloak, but he determinedly ignored it. His sense of foreboding increased and he picked up his pace as he passed the deserted Greenhouses and the Whomping Willow came into view. the branches whirled around and seemed ready for a second go at Blaise's nose.

Tentatively he edged forward until a particularly large branch continued to flail a mere few inches from his midsection, effectively freezing him to the spot.

"Granger?" Through the mess of branches and the half-light of the cloudy day he couldn't make out the figure of the girl presumably under the tree. "Granger? You here?"

He stood there a few moments, unsure of what to do; he had been sure she would be there, but apparently not. Yet a few seconds before he turned around and tried to find her somewhere else, the whipping branches halted in mid-swing.

"Wha-?"

But before Blaise could get too amazed by the frozen tree he heard Hermione's voice ushering him in, mingled with a sweet melody that he was almost certain was the previous summer's hit of Celestina Warbuck's "_Stinging Hex_."

"Granger?" He made his way tentatively through the branches, as if expecting to be hit at any moment. Finally he got close enough to see her, and he drew in a sharp breath.

"What?"

"You- You're eyes."

"Yes, Zabini, I do in fact have eyes. Lovely observation."

How to put it adequately into words? "They're so sad. Granger, what's wrong?" Her eyes, so normally expressive, were dull and nearly as black as Blaise's himself.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Now Hermione seemed more angry than anything, which Blaise tentatively considered to be a good sign, but Blaise was rather miffed that she acknowledged none of him consideration.

"Your eyes just look empty, though _those two mourning eyes become thy face_." Okay, so Blaise had _definitely _not meant to compliment her eyes, but he decided to ignore that as well as his rising blush.

Hermione didn't reply, merely stared at her wand as she twirled it around. It seemed to be the source of the soft melody that was floating around them.

"_You disappeared in an instant_

_Like an Apparation from my heart._

_I want you back so badly _

_But I know we'll forever be apart._

"_Yet somehow I keep dreaming_

_And I keep listening for your voice_

_I feel like I've been Splinched in half-_

_Like I never ever had a choice…"_

"How do you do that?" Blaise's Slytherin nature naturally chose curiousness over sympathy. "I've never seen anything like that."

"It's called the Audicarme spell. I discovered it in a really old book called Magic and Music; very interesting. If you can recreate the song in your mind, you can channel it through your want."

Blaise nodded and made a mental note to try the spell later. A moment later he looked down at her, conflicted, but decided on settling down beside her. He leaned against the sturdy trunk next to a strange looking knot and glanced over at her once again. "So what's wrong Granger? You left pretty quickly. I- We were worried."

"My parents are dead."

Blaise was stunned. Hermione seemed entirely unaffected that she had just announced the fact that her entire blood family had just been killed, presumably murdered. He hoped to Merlin that it was not just another case of random Muggle killings…

"Voldemort's doing, if you were wondering." For some reason she found she could not cry. "It's okay though Blaise."

"Merlin Granger! Can't you at least pretend that you care a little?" As much as he hated his insane mother, he would still be rather broken up about it.

"I am upset Blaise. But-- I don't know-- it's just like I've been expecting it so long it just seemed sort of natural. They were Muggles, they went around largely unprotected, and I'm the savior of the Wizarding World's best friend. It was bound to happen, right?"

As much as Blaise wished to deny it, he knew it was true. All he could manage was an "I'm sorry" and before he knew consciously what he was doing, his arms were wrapped around her and her face was burrowed into the crook of his neck. She was shaking with silent sobs and all Blaise could do was try to give her what little comfort a cold Slytherin could provide.

After an indefinite amount of time Hermione raised her watery eyes toward Blaise and wordlessly handed him the parchment she had received in the Great Hall, now crumpled from being clutched in Hermione's frozen hand.

Blaise carefully took the parchment and read it quickly, feeling nauseous as he did.

_Dear Miss Hermione Granger,_

_We regret to inform you that the Dark Mark was reported above your house in Elephant and Castle of Southern London at approximately seven ten p.m. on the night of the 22nd. When Aurors arrived at the scene your parents were discovered. They were rushed to St. Mungo's where they were declared dead, presumably of the "Avada Kedava" curse._

_The Ministry has been in contact with your Headmaster Dumbledore and arrangements have been made for a Portkey to transport you and one guest to a designated safe-spot where all necessary arrangements may be made._

_Our Sincerest Condolences,_

_The Department of Magical Law Enforcement_

------

Wow. So much excitement, yeah? AND a quick update, which is always a lovely thing. So yes, that's rather exciting. As for a couple of notes…

The spell _Audicarme _obviously comes from the Latin words "audire" (to hear) and "carmen" (song), so that's pretty self explanatory.

The song "_Stinging Hex_" is also mine (so don't make fun of the lyrics!) although Celestina Warbeck and the actually hex are obviously a J.K. Rowling inventions.


	8. Chapter 8

Well hello again my faithful readers! I hope I didn't keep you all waiting too long for this chapter. There are a few things I would like to note:

**1.** I have a new (very short) Blaise story called Oblivion. Right now it is a one shot and I don't foresee it becoming anything more, however I ask that you go over and read/review it to tell me about it either way.

**2.** The song in this chapter is called "Somedays" by Regina Spektor. I would highly recommend that you download it from somewhere and listen to it because it a) adds to the ambiance of the story as well as b) the fact that it is a fantastic song.

A/N 2: This chapter was revised January 14, 2007.

-----

**Division**

Mnemosynesque

Summary: Blaise Zabini, social recluse extraordinaire, after two days of shocking speech, has once again fallen back into silence. Hermione, starting the week out with a new friend, is now forced to live with a boy who hates her guts. However when the Yule Ball makes an appearance things get strange again... However, maybe there is a little hope for the duo, provided they can put aside their massive egos and forget their past dramas.

Rating: PG-13 still, just because it's really hard to change the rating on here and I'm a massive bum.

Disclaimer: Some things in life are simply unattainable. This would be one of them, unfortunately. This is J. K. Rowling's. I haven't got a chance of owning it, so screw you. (The song "Somedays" by Regina Spektor is also not mine!)

-----

**Chapter Eight: For I… Perforce am thine, and all that is in me.**

Beshrew that heart that makes my heart to groan

For that deep wound it gives my friend and me!  
Is't not enough to torture me alone,  
But slave to slavery my sweet'st friend must be?  
Me from myself thy cruel eye hath taken,  
And my next self thou harder hast engrossed:

Of him, myself, and thee I am forsaken;

A torment thrice three-fold thus to be crossed.

Prison my heart in thy steel bosom's ward,

But then my friend's heart let my poor heart bail;

Whoe'er keeps me, let my heart be his guard;

Thou canst not then use rigour in my jail:

And yet thou wilt; for I, being pent in thee,

Perforce am thine, and all that is in me.

_**Heartbreaker Hermione Loses Parents in Tragic Accident**_

_By Special Correspondent Rita Skeeter_

_Only two days prior to Christmas Eve, a massive killing spree (presumably begun by the Death Eaters) occurred in a small portion of Muggle London killing twelve and injuring forty. Most of the injured have been stabilized at St. Mungo's, where their memories are being prepared to be wiped. Two Muggles remain in critical condition and it is unsure if they will survive. The Ministry has dispatched a team of officials and the Ministry workers have been working around the clock to perform necessary memory charms on hundreds of Muggles. However the most interesting aspect of this attack was the death of the parents of Hermione Granger, Muggleborn friend of the Chosen One, the obvious targets of the attacks._

_(Continued on the Society page, column two)_

Hermione turned to the Society page, smoothing it, and glancing to her right to make sure that Blaise, who was reclining next to her on the bed, could see the rest of the article. Steeling herself for the ridiculousness that was sure to come, Hermione read the continuation of the article.

_This reporter has heard from many sources (who prefer to remain anonymous) that the Boy Who Lived has proven to be an able comforter in Granger's time of need. Could this perhaps be the sadly foreseen off of Ginevra Weasley as Harry Potter's girlfriend, and Hermione Granger's new ascent to societal stardom? Witches and wizards everywhere wait to see whether the Muggleborn Granger will ruin yet another wholesome relationship. However, there is yet another twist in the conniving young witch's love life: the entrance of the dashingly handsome Blaise Zabini, heir to one of the largest fortunes in the Wizarding world and the newest conquest of one Hermione Granger._

_Once again the plain Muggleborn witch is involved in a love triangle, once again playing with the innocent Boy Who Lived's heart. Will the excuse of her parent's death allow her to get away with this, or will the boys wise up and learn their lesson before it's too late? Keep reading the Daily Prophet to keep updated on this unfortunate series of events._

"I never knew I was that conniving; or that I was once again involved in a relationship with Harry, let alone cheating on him with you. Good to know, I guess." Hermione tossed the paper onto Blaise's stomach and he was relieved to see the first ghost of a smile on her face since she had found out about her parent's death two days ago.

Grinning and stretching on top (and well over the edges) of her childhood bed, Blaise replied, "But of course we both knew that I was 'dashingly handsome.' But I had no idea that you were cheating on me with the damned Boy Who Lived! I'm wounded- I thought I was better than him." He grabbed a teddy bear from the floor and clutched it to his heart in mock anguish.

Hermione huffily grabbed the aforementioned teddy bear and tossed it to the relative safety of her desk. "Just because I let you come into my room doesn't mean you can abuse my poor toys."

"I'm so sorry, miss I'm - Head - Girl - But - Still - Play - With - Toys. Please forgive me."

Hermione looked over at Blaise, his pleading face mere inches from her own, and was unable to pretend to that she was angry. His hair (which had gotten quite long since the beginning of the year) flopped in front of his eyes and she was overwhelmed by a great sense of affection. She rolled over and threw her arms around him, resting her head on his chest.

When he realised what she was doing, his muscles tightened instinctively and he had to stop himself from shying away from the girl. Truth be told, since he had kissed her in the dark hallway after the ball he had felt awkward around the girl. It had been a stupid mistake when his normally serene life had suddenly become overcome with Hermione Granger.

He had wanted to separate himself from the girl, to have been rid of her, but it had merely drawn them back together, as if it was inevitable. When she had asked if they were still friends he couldn't help but tell her they were…

"_What do you want?" As Blaise asked this question, however, he was not looking at her face, but at her hand, so casually wrapped around his arm. How could she possibly be so used to touching people like that? It was just utterly foreign to him._

"_I. I just wanted to know…" She seemed to be losing her nerve, so she quickly spit it out. "Are we okay?"_

_His eyes flew up to her own as he considered her. Hermione found it a decidedly uncomfortable experience. "I suppose... Spending a whole year avoiding my co-Head would be obnoxious. Not to mention my house is entirely filled with idiots and, as much as your horrible excuse of a house deters me, you are the most intelligent witch in our year. So… It just makes sense for us to work together."_

_Hermione's eyes sparkled. "I think you just complimented me, Zabini."_

And no matter how much the kiss had affected the Head Girl, he was sure it had affected him more. For once in his life, Blaise Zabini felt nervous around a girl. Usually, as long as he didn't have to actually say anything to a woman, he felt nothing for them. But now… Now he felt as if he had to live up to all of the expectations that he was almost positive Hermione Granger didn't have for him.

Sighing and pulling himself back into the present Blaise cautiously wrapped his arms around the girl and ignored the small flutter that went through his chest, quashing it as he would an errant snitch. "You okay, Hermione?" Blaise Zabini was smart enough to realise that Hermione only grasped for physical comfort when she was truly upset. Although a Gryffindor, she was not one to waste physical touches on the unimportant.

"It's just that… for a moment I had forgotten the funeral and all the responsibility I had, and I feel terrible for it. I," at this point Blaise could hear the catch in her voice and the tears welling up in her throat, "I forgot my parents! My dead parents! I'm a terrible person." She lost her fight against the tears and they began to fall quickly down her face for what seemed like the millionth time that day.

Well, he had been able to distract her from the inevitable pain for at least a few moments. Steeling himself he began to (once again) comfort the distraught girl, something he had done countless times over the past few days.

"You are not a terrible person, Hermione. You have been working non-stop for the past two days to get their affairs set right- you've been entirely selfless. You are a great person and I'm certain your parents would hate to see you this upset over some imagined short coming. I mean, it's proof enough that I am _completely_ exhausted from meeting with the lawyers, millions of relatives, and everyone else that I can't remember."

Hermione raised her head from Blaise's chest and gave him a watery smile while he tried to ignore the feeling of her body pressed up against his. "Blaise, I don't know what I would have done without you these days."

It was true, and entirely unexpected to both of them.

_A few hours after the Ministry letter had reached her Hermione had been summoned to Dumbledore's office._

"_Hello Miss Granger. I'm sorry about your loss, but I'm sure you don't want to hear such trite condolences." Hermione, once again, was thankful for however the Headmaster knew that she wanted no more sympathy. "Instead I would like to let you know that you will have as much time off of school as you need in order to return to your hometown and set your affairs right. I would also like to extend to you an offer to bring along someone for support or anything else you may need from them."_

_Hermione's mind immediately flew to either Ron or Harry, but almost as quickly discarded them. Hermione knew she wouldn't be able to stand the awkward silences and pitying looks that the boys would give her; they would assume that she would want to be left alone, and she would never get any of the physical comfort she was so yearning for from those two awkward boy._

_Even Blaise Zabini, a Slytherin, knew her well enough to realise that he could help even a little by wrapping his arms around her. In that moment she _had _felt truly safe and the platitudes he said were actually a comfort, rather than just false hope._

"_Blaise," she said suddenly. "I want to take Blaise Zabini with me," she clarified for the Headmaster as her cheeks grew red however much she tried to ignore it. _

_Dumbledore had the grace to look marginally surprised, but Hermione knew from his small smile and the overly pleased twinkle in his eyes that he had been expecting this all along. She didn't even try to fathom why he would look that pleased just because she had passed up her friends for a relatively unknown Slytherin. If she knew one thing about Professor Dumbledore, it was that he was almost entirely unknowable._

"_Very good Miss Granger- I will notify him immediately after our meeting. But first, if I may ask, how is the tenuous friendship of you and Mr. Zabini?"_

"_We have had our ups and downs, sir," Hermione replied carefully, unsure of why Albus Dumbledore would want to know about herself and Blaise, "but overall we are doing very well. It's sort of amazing how well we're getting on, being from Gryffindor and Slytherin. However, I feel that it is important, and hopefully we can set an example for others."_

_The Headmaster smiled knowingly once more. "I have the utmost faith in both of you. If anyone can help bring the Houses of Gryffindor and Slytherin together it will be yourself and Mr. Zabini. I knew that I chose my Heads well. But please, Miss Granger, a friendship is not only just to prove something like interhouse unity, as you well know. Make sure that it can truly be called a friendship before you do so."_

_Hermione blushed and looked down, pleased by the Headmaster's obvious flattery and mindful of his warning. She hoped that she would do nothing to hurt the quiet Slytherin she had somehow befriended._

_Dumbledore just looked genially down at the brown haired girl and looked forward to collecting his two galleons from Minerva very soon… There would be something more between the two, he was certain. He wasn't known as omniscient for nothing._

"_Thank you sir. The Head Boy and myself will certainly continue working toward total inter House unity." Hermione ignored the pounding grief that threatened to overwhelm her as she forced a smile to the Headmaster._

"_Please excuse me Miss Granger, while I go fetch Blaise. You will leave as soon as he arrives here, if that's alright with your schedule." At Hermione's brief nod, Dumbledore stood and with a sweep of his royal blue robes, strode from the room._

Hermione sighed happily as she remembered the look of concern on Blaise's face as he rushed into Dumbledore's office. The look of pure worry on his face completely overrode any thoughts of treason to Harry, Ron, or anyone else. For a moment she just reveled in the fact that someone was _that_ concerned over her.

And he had remained so the whole time that he had stayed with her over the two days. And now here they were in her innocent powder blue room waiting for the doorbell to chime, signifying the beginning of the dreaded funeral.

RING.

"Ready?" Blaise asked, looking as sick as Hermione felt. He sat up and ignored the feeling, trying to stay strong, at least for Hermione's sake.

"Not at all, but let's go." She grabbed his large hand and the two made their way to the front door. Hermione opened it slowly, unwilling to admit to herself that she would have to actually bury her parents in their small family plot in a very short time.

The door swung open to reveal a pale Harry and a teary eyed Ron. Hermione immediately rushed into the open arms of her best friends, forgetting the tall, dark boy that had stood as her pillar of strength when neither Harry nor Ron had been good enough.

"Harry! Ron! It's so good to see you. Thank you so much for coming!"

"Of course we wouldn't miss this. We wanted to come earlier, as soon as we got the invitation, but Mrs. Weasley said that it was too risky to send us alone."

"I wouldn't miss it for the world, Hermione, but-" at this point Harry threw a barely veiled glare at the tall Slytherin "-but can we talk to you, in private, for just a minute."

"Blaise, do you mind?"

"Of course, but it's not like I really have any say in it, right?" He avoided Hermione's pleading gaze and instead focused on the inner rage building within him at the sight of the dumber two thirds of the Golden Trio. How dare they steal Hermione away from him as soon as they saw her? It wasn't his fault he had been her first choice for comfort, rather than those two idiots. Meanwhile, as Blaise fumed at the threshold, Harry and Ron had dragged Hermione none too gently to the front of her immaculate kept lawn. She shivered, a combination of the cold winter morning as well as the unfriendly looks that the two boys were bestowing upon her.

"Thank you for coming you guys, it means a lot."

"Look Hermione, we really don't want to bring this up with you at this sort of time, but why the hell would you choose Zabini, a bloody Slytherin, over one of us?"

Ron nodded and looked hurt as Harry spoke. "Yeah Hermione! We know that Dumbledore let you take one person so why would take _him_ instead of one of us: one of your best friends! Why couldn't you take one of us?"

"Guys," Hermione began, looking at the frozen ground so she could avoid their hurt looks, "I couldn't choose between you two. I know that sounds lame, but it's really true. And just before I had gone to Dumbledore's office Blaise came out to look for me and had comforted me. Even though he doesn't really know me at all-" okay, so maybe this was all slightly a lie "-it meant a lot. He was there at Hogwarts with me at the time. It was just easiest. I was upset and I wasn't really thinking clearly – I just saw Blaise as comfort."

She looked up to see the slightly assuaged visages of Harry and Ron, hating herself for playing the guilt card on them. She felt bad on many levels- lying to her friends about her burgeoning affection towards the Slytherin and betraying Blaise himself. She gave them a tentative smile and winced inwardly to see their sickeningly compassionate faces.

"We're really sorry for bringing this up Hermione," said Ron, "we were just really worried. We had only heard about their… being gone-"

"My parents are dead, Ron, they're not on holidays."

Ron winced and nodded, but doggedly continued, his ears turned slightly pink. "Right, well we only knew about all of this when we got the invitation to the funeral. We just wondered why we hadn't been told sooner. Just… After everything we've been through together it was just unexpected." Harry nodded in agreement, obviously trying to not look as hurt as he felt.

"I'm so sorry guys. I just needed some time alone and Blaise was someone who would both protect me and give me the space I really needed."

"It's okay Hermione, we understand." Harry's green eyes were so piercing it almost pained Hermione to look into them. He stepped forward and gave her a tight hug. "Just let us know if you need anything: now or ever. I hope you know we'll always be here for you."

"Why don't you guys go on ahead in the first car and I'll follow along in a moment?" She gestured toward the first black car in the long funeral procession. Harry and Ron nodded, neither voicing any dissent for a change. Hermione belatedly realised it was because they hadn't wanted to upset her… because her parents were dead. She suddenly felt very dizzy. Before her knees could even think of collapsing Blaise's arms were firmly around her waist and they were both ignoring the many eyes of her relatives in the cars that burned the pair through the panes of glass.

"You okay?"

"I'm fine. Let's go."

The ride to the funeral was fifteen minutes of awkward silence. Even Blaise's naturally calming presence did nothing to quell the rising nausea that Hermione felt, and she felt bad at the obvious distress that he felt at this fact. All he could do was wrap his strong arms around her thin waist and feed her all the strength he could.

Finally they reached the small plot in the London graveyard and nearly fifty people gathered around the two ominous holes in the ground. Hermione felt, rather than saw, Harry, Ron, and Blaise around her, putting aside their differences for her, at least for the moment.

The service was surreal to Hermione: the priest seemed far away and the soft music that overrode the whole short service seemed distant. Her only motion during the whole service was to recoil slightly as the wooden coffins were heard thumping at the bottom of the damp graves. All throughout Blaise held her tightly, stroking the small of her back in small, comforting circles.

Finally it came time for the closing moments. Hermione gathered a small bit of the moist soil piled near her _parents' graves_ and tossed it into the dark holes, forcing herself to not break down in front of everyone. However when the first notes of the closing song (Hermione's mother had begged "please play this at my funeral!" with a laugh some months ago after Hermione had played her the song, haltingly, on the family piano. Hermione had not forgotten her request), Hermione could no longer hold in her tears.

_Somedays aren't yours at all,  
They come and go  
As if they're someone else's days  
They come and leave you behind someone else's face  
And it's harsher than yours  
And colder than yours_

_They come in all quiet  
Sweep up and then they leave  
And you don't hear a single floor board creak  
They're so much stronger  
Than the friends you try to keep  
By your side_

_Downtown, Downtown  
I'm not here, not anymore  
I've gone away  
Don't call me, don't write_

_I'm in love with your daughter  
I wanna have her baby  
I'm in love with your daughter  
So can I please_

_Downtown, Downtown  
I'm not here, not anymore  
I've gone away  
Don't call me, don't write  
I've gone away  
Don't call me, don't write  
Don't call me, don't call me, don't call me  
Don't write, don't write, don't write, don't write, don't write_

_Somedays aren't yours at all  
They come and go  
As if they're someone else's days  
They come and leave you behind someone else's face  
And it's harsher than yours  
And it's colder than yours... _

When Hermione had finally cleared her head enough to take in her surrounding she had found that everyone and everything was gone except for a lone black car and a nervous looking Blaise Zabini. To her disappointment Harry and Ron had also left, presumably chased away by their lingering fears of crying girls.

"It's over Hermione. It's past and it's for the best." Both teenagers pretended that they didn't notice how close they were to each other or how close they had been all day. After the burial, both their heads seemed to have cleared. The lessening of shared grief showed them both the awkwardness that had been under the surface of their actions all day; both were sad to realise they were still not the good friends they would have hoped.

"I- I- I'm sorry, Blaise."

"What?" He certainly hadn't been expecting any sort of apology from her. Not now, not ever. "I can not possibly think of a reason for you to be apologizing to me, Hermione Granger."

She related what she had told to Harry and Ron earlier in the day about why she had invited Blaise to come with her. "I felt bad about demeaning how great you've been to me, because I would never want you to feel like I wasn't appreciative of all you've done for me."

"That's really nice of you. I feel very special," he said teasingly, his heart tugging as tears coursed down her face. She looked freezing and a little hurt at his easy shrug off of her confession. "Seriously, Hermione, this means a lot. I really appreciate it. You know, I think you're my first real friend other than Draco and I'm glad you like me."

"I lied to my two best friends for you so you better feel damn special." She managed to grin through her tears and it felt as if a weight had been lifted from her chest as she stared up at Blaise. She huddled unconsciously closer as the day grew darker.

Finally Blaise could take it no more. _"I, being pent in thee, perforce am thine, and all that is in me." _

Quickly, before he could lose his nerve, he bent down and placed his lips over hers. She returned the kiss hesitantly, assuring Blaise that this attention was not entirely unwanted. Smiling slightly over her mouth he leaned in to deepen the kiss.

-----

Ha. There. Finally a decent, non drama filled kiss, but did this passion come consciously or just from the trauma that they've been through? Hmm, I suppose we'll just have to find out next time won't we?


	9. Chapter 9

So. Uhhhh. It's been a while, yeah? Well, I hope this chapter makes up for it, because I really enjoyed writing it. I've forgotten how much fun and excitement there is in writing. Huzzah! And also a huge thanks to all of those people who slowly but surely harassed me over the (eep!) 7 month interim I had.

* * *

**Division**

Mnemosynesque

Summary: Blaise Zabini, social recluse extraordinaire, after two days of shocking speech, has once again fallen back into silence. Hermione, starting the week out with a new friend, is now forced to live with a boy who hates her guts. However when the Yule Ball makes an appearance things get strange again… But perhaps there is hope for the odd duo if they can put aside their differences and stop being so damn hormonal.

Rating: PG-13 still.

Disclaimer: Some things in life are simply unattainable. This would be one of them, unfortunately. This is J. K. Rowling's. I haven't got a chance of owning it, so screw you.

* * *

**Chapter Nine: Though thou repent, yet I have still the loss**

_Why didst thou promise such a beauteous day, _

_And make me travel forth without my cloak, _

_To let base clouds o'ertake me in my way, _

_Hiding thy bravery in their rotten smoke? _

_'Tis not enough that through the cloud thou break, _

_To dry the rain on my storm-beaten face, _

_For no man well of such a salve can speak _

_That heals the wound and cures not the disgrace: _

_Nor can thy shame give physic to my grief; _

_Though thou repent, yet I have still the loss: _

_The offender's sorrow lends but weak relief _

_To him that bears the strong offence's cross. _

_Ah! but those tears are pearl which thy love sheds, _

_And they are rich and ransom all ill deeds._

_--Sonnet 34_

Hermione had insisted on returning to the castle as soon as her parents' funeral was over. Her house had been sold (for she would have been living on her own after graduation anyway), and she said she had no desire to live in a house without anyone in it. Blaise, in his mind, had sourly thought '_but I'm here_.' After the whole "Golden Trio Reunited" event, Blaise became more and more sure that he would eventually be ditched by Hermione. But then sometimes, he thought they were growing closer.

That girl was an enigma.

So here they were, lounging on the couches of their common room, enjoying the comforting awkwardness that the two had come to know so well since they came to know each other.

Hermione was wrapped up in her thoughts, mostly about the boy across from her. She and he just evoked so much drama: it was really quite impressive if you though about it. She, after all of it, was glad that she had stayed at Hogwarts for Christmas. In truth, she had stayed for Blaise, hoping that they would grow closer. She blushed slightly at that. They had grown closer; and, what was even more shocking, was that he had kissed her. Again!

The first time he had done it she had thrown it off as him just being angry and in his twisted Slytherin mind it had been a punishment. But a second time? She thought perhaps he was attracted to her now. But she was the Gryffindor Bookworm, completely unaware of any sort of romance that had to do with her. She could never admit to herself that a boy would be attracted to her, plus Blaise had remained perfectly stoic about the whole situation. She was used to the Gryffindor boys, with their loud proclamations and obviousness. This odd Slytherin courtship - if it could be called that - was entirely foreign to her.

Hermione sighed and rolled over, smothering herself in her pillow. On the opposite couch, Blaise felt as if he ought to be doing the same thing.

Blaise, as opposed to Hermione, was shocked that he could be so blatant in his strange feelings toward Hermione. He actually had no idea what he felt about the girl: sure, she was nice looking, intelligent, and kind, but he knew he had no desire to be tied down to her. Sure he felt bad about this, he was practically using her. But Hermione was a smart girl, and she wouldn't let herself get hurt by a boy such as he.

As he looked over towards the girl currently drowning in her own hair he heard a muffled, "Do you want -"

However, she didn't get the chance to finish whatever she was going to ask as the door to their shared rooms burst open and a determined looking Draco Malfoy strode in.

"Blaise! I need to talk to you!" Draco marched to the couch where Blaise was currently sprawled out. He towered over the darker boy looking angry, but Blaise did not miss the definite look of fear in his eyes. "Now?" he asked, with a bit less force.

"Um, sure. Let's go into my room. Come on." Blaise threw a look at Hermione, who was interested but had been completely ignored, before shrugging and leading Draco up to his room.

Once they had reached Blaise's room, Draco cast a number of spells to ensure nothing would be heard from outside of the room. Then Draco headed to Blaise's bathroom where he heard the faucet running for a long while. When he came out, Blaise tossed him an inquisitive look.

"I had to wash my hands." Blaise remembered that Draco had always had the strange habit of washing his hands, something he had picked up from his father.

Shrugging it off, the two boys sat down on the large bed. Blaise looked expectantly at his blonde friend. "So what's all this about Draco?"

"I want out."

Blaise's eyes widened in surprise. "What?"

"I want out of this whole - thing. I can't take it anymore."

Blaise was shocked at the strange turnaround in Draco. First, he was thrilled at the stories of Muggle deaths, then, crying and begging for help. But now Blaise saw the strange burning intensity in his eyes and knew Draco was not going to back down. Draco was no longer a man with an oppressor.

"And how exactly do you plan to do that, Draco? You can't just walk away from it."

Draco snorted. "That's rich, coming from you Zabini. You've backed out of every important decision you've had to make. But don't let me make this about you… I. Am. Done. With all of this shit. I decided last night that I'm going to Dumbledore."

Blaise looked even more shocked at this, if at all possible. "Why did you decide that? And why are you telling me?"

"You - You were my best friend before, and I know that you are telling the truth when you say you're neutral. You wouldn't go off telling any Death Eaters. I don't know if I can trust Nott, and we were never close before all of this happened." Draco looked almost hesitantly at Blaise after saying all this, as if he would suddenly turn into Lord Voldemort himself. "And the only way to get out of service that I can think of is to kill myself or get protection. Dumbledore is the one wizard that Voldemort truly fears and as much as I'm pained to admit it, he'll listen and not cart me straight off to Azkaban."

Blaise pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to ward off the head ache he knew was forthcoming. "Okay. Fine. You're going to Dumbledore. But I am not going." He knew why Draco had not simply gone to Dumbledore himself. He expected Blaise to turn himself in too, so to speak. It was a nice thought on his part, but Blaise wanted no protection from the Headmaster.

"Blaise, stop being an idiot. I know you're always saying you're 'neutral' but you simply can't be. You either join the light or dark and get protected by them, or don't and get hunted down by both sides. Come on mate, you're smart. Think it through."

_Mate_. Draco hadn't called him that since he had become a Death Eater, and the friendly term affected him more than Draco could probably ever know. However he ignored this, smirked, and instead replied, "You know, I think Hermione said the exact same thing to me a while ago."

Draco shot a glare at his friend. "Shut it. And, as much as it pains me to admit it, as obnoxious as that girl is, she is intelligent." He punched Blaise lightly on the shoulder. "Now that you've got two smart people telling you the same thing, don't you think you ought to listen?"

"I suppose."

From under the fringe of his hair, Blaise could see a flicker of surprise cross Draco's face and quickly disappear. He would have laughed if they were not planning to put their lives on the line.

"When exactly are you - we - planning to do this?"

"I just assumed we'd do it after I convinced you. So I guess tonight."

Blaise felt his chest constrict at Draco's simple statement. After seventeen years of neutrality he was about to toss it all away. He couldn't help but feel frightened for his mother (who at the moment, as far as he knew, was once again without a husband); however, there was a feeling of excitement that couldn't quashed. The two emotions warring within made him want to do nothing but curl up and sleep until this was all over.

Taking a deep breath, he made eye contact with Draco for the first time during the talk. "Fine. Let's do it."

"Thank Merlin, Blaise. I was afraid I was going to have to stun you and drag you to the Headmaster's office. What would you co-Head think if she saw that?" Draco smirked, but Blaise could tell it was a forced lightening of the situation.

"Well, at this point she might be pleased," he muttered, "as long as you were going to do something unpleasant to me later."

Draco's eyebrow arched. "Oh? What have you done to displease Miss Perfect?"

"I think you don't want to know." At the ever inquisitive look on his face, Blaise flipped him off. "You really wouldn't."

Draco's face contorted as, undoubtedly, millions of very disturbing situations popped into his warped little Pureblood mind. "Yes. Well. That is simply vile, Blaise. Shall we be going now?"

Sighing, Blaise stood up and walked out the door, Draco right behind the tall Italian. "Now's as good as ever for betraying everything you've ever known."

The two boys clumped down the stairs with a nervous energy that the intuitive Head Girl felt without even looking up from her History of Magic textbook. "Where are you two going?" She looked at the two boys suspiciously; Blaise's façade was pretty badly constructed, and Draco seemed to be even stiffer than usual.

"None of your business, Granger, now is it?" Ah, there was the normal Draco, sneer and all. But it was all a bit forced as if this banter had very little meaning to him. Yes, Hermione deduced, they were _definitely_ up to something.

"Draco! Play nice." Blaise really didn't feel like refereeing another one of their infamous arguments.

Draco nodded shortly, and scrubbed at his eyes with his hand as if remarkably tired. It was such a disarming, normal thing to do that Hermione was now certain something serious was going on. "Guys? Seriously," she said in a quiet voice. "I know you hate me Malfoy, but Blaise? If there's something wrong I want to help you."

"Of course you would," muttered Draco bitterly. "Damn Gryffindor."

Ignoring him, Blaise looked at Hermione's pleading face. He knew he couldn't keep it from her; after all, she was the one who had first started this mutiny of his mind. He just hoped Draco wouldn't throttle him after he spilled it all. "W - we've decided to go to Dumbledore."

"You're going to Dumbledore? Oh, that's wonderful!" Hermione nearly tackled him as she pulled him into a fierce hug. "See? I knew you would come around."

Blaise focused on breathing through her death grip and ignored the indignant sounds Draco was making. Of course he wanted all the credit for Blaise's turn around.

As suddenly as she had wrapped her arms around him, she was standing a few paces away from him. Blaise found himself missing the feeling of the woman pressed against him, but quickly refocused on the scowling Hermione. "What?"

"Why _are_ you doing this all of the sudden? There must be a reason. If you are going to Dumbledore, there must have been a trigger."

Damn her. She really was too smart for her own good. "That must deserve an award for the fastest mood swing ever." Draco snorted and Hermione looked even more venomous. He cleared his throat nervously and continued. "Look Hermione, it's like this - "

"Oh cut the crap Blaise." To Hermione, "Don't let him lie to you, Granger. Blaise is wanted by the Lord. He's a strong, young pureblood that's refused to serve him. He's probably more at risk than me right now."

"Thank you Draco. That was remarkably necessary."

Blaise chanced a look at Hermione and saw her face pinched and worried. "You're in danger?" Her voice was much higher than its usual pitch, as if trying to stop herself from screaming, or crying, or something. Yes, now that he looked, he could see a very subtle trembling of her chin. Was she going to cry?

Draco, meanwhile, looked marginally impressed at the fact that she was so worried for his sake. While perhaps a bigot he was definitely a friend first, and realised that perhaps Hermione was a good think for Blaise to have in his life.

"I - I… So you've been in trouble this whole time too? Why didn't you tell me?"

Blaise hung his head. "I didn't want you to worry anymore. I knew the story about Draco upset you. I figured you didn't need anymore worries."

"Wait. So you knew I was a Death Eater this whole time? And you didn't spill to Pothead or Weasel?" Draco looked as if he might have a marginal amount of respect for the bushy headed girl. "And you were worried?"

"Of course I was worried! Even though you've always been a huge prick to me, I couldn't wish death or danger on anyone. And of course I wouldn't tell anyone… It wasn't my secret to tell, and I've only just found out definitively that you were a Death Eater. I mean, Ron and Harry already think badly of you; why exacerbate the problem?"

Draco nodded slowly, but Blaise saw the boy's mind working hard. He braced himself as the boy turned towards him. "You told her about the whole thing, didn't you? You stupid idiot! Why would you do that?"

Blaise shrugged apologetically. "It wasn't really my place to tell her but, unlike you, I got to know her before making assumptions and I realised that she's trustworthy. Come on Draco, don't give me that glare, you know it's true. She's not betrayed me nor you, even after years of your torment. Even if you don't like her, she's still very useful and won't immediately condemn you. So deal with it."

Hermione beamed at these complements. This smile dropped off and was replaced by incredulity as the full impact of the situation hit her. "Oh - Oh my." She plopped down on the couch and as she looked up at Blaise she looked as if she may faint.

"What is it?"

"Draco - Death Eater. Th - The revel!" She turned her haunted stare toward Draco, whose eyes widened almost imperceptibly as he realised what she had put together.

"N - No. Please, Malfoy. You didn't?"

"What? What's going on?" asked Blaise worriedly.

"Yes. I was there."

"No. I thought - "

"Granger, I want out, but I'm not perfect." Draco's face was steadily becoming more and more pale, and he looked ready to bolt from the room.

"What in the bloody hell is going on here?"

"But…"

"Granger! Please don't."

"Draco." The intimate use of his first name seemed to finally, fully break Draco Malfoy down.

"Granger. I was there. I - I - Fucking hell! I was there when your parents were killed!"

Blaise looked on in stunned amazement. His best friend was there when his… when Hermione's parents were killed? From the look on Draco's face, he hadn't thought Hermione would ever figure it out, and that he had hoped he could keep the guilt bottled inside. As much as he would like to pretend, Blaise saw that it truly had affected his friend.

Maybe this experience truly had changed Draco.

However, Hermione seemed not to notice this change as she stared at Draco with a look of terror on her face. It quickly turned to a look of repulsion, but she forced it from her face when she saw the agony written on Draco's face.

"Come on," she said quietly, "we need to get you two to the Headmaster's office."

* * *

"So what brings three of my best students to my office this night?" Headmaster Dumbledore looked the same as always, ageless and infinitely wise. His eyes seemed to be sparkling extra brightly at that time, and Hermione hoped that this meant he knew what was to happen and that all would turn out well for the two boys in front of her.

"Um." Draco paled considerably as the wizened Headmaster turned his gaze toward him. "Well, it so happens that I - I'm a Death Eater. Sir," he added as an afterthought.

"So it would seem, young Master Malfoy." Dumbledore gave him an appraising look over the top of his spectacles. "Could you perhaps tell me how this unfortunate occurrence came about?"

"I've pretty much known since birth that I've been expected to become one. On my seventeenth birthday - this June before school started - I was awoken very early and a Portkey was forced into my hands. I ended up in an old mansion, I think somewhere in Ireland, where the inner ring of Death Eaters were, including my father. They restrained me when I tried to escape, an - and then Voldemort came into the room with his snake. He performed an incantation over my forearm and… The pain was incredible. I thought for sure I was going to die at that moment. I passed out for a long while. When I woke, I had the Mark on my arm and I was completely alone in a small cell. I was left there for a long while, I don't know how long, with no food or water. Eventually someone tossed an old boot to me and it took me back to my home.

"Nothing happened for a long while. No news, no meetings; nothing. I half hoped that I wouldn't ever be called up, that it was all a mistake and they didn't want me. But about a month ago I was summoned to a revel. It was horrible. They had a Muggle family from Dublin. They killed the young boy immediately, with Avada Kedava. However, his mother was first raped by some of the Death Eaters and then..." At this he trailed off and seemed unable to speak any further.

"Please, Draco, finish. I promise I will help, but I must hear the whole story," the Headmaster gently prodded.

"And then I killed her," he spat out. "And the father had to watch it all. Finally, my father - my own _father_ - murdered the man. And laughed.

"I went to Blaise after this and told him, but I didn't think there was anything I could do. So I waited. And then about a week ago, I was once again summoned by… Him. This time it was to London. I was forced to kill an entire family under the watchful eye of some foreign Death Eater I didn't know. I nearly killed myself then and there, but I was dragged off to the next house. I - Oh fuck, Hermione, I'm so sorry! I couldn't do anything. They were taunted, but they died quickly. I tried to leave, but they kept me watching. And then I had to keep going and going and killing. Death everywhere. And the Grangers. Kept hearing Mudblood, Mudblood. I saw you. Pictures didn't move. And it was you and them, but now they're dead and you can't take pictures anymore. Little room blasted to bits after they were done. No more. And I watched. NO MORE! I tried, oh Merlin, I TRIED!"

Hermione let out a strangled sob and turned away from the blonde. Blaise sat in a stunned silence, and even the Headmaster seem surprised at the uncontrollable grief coming from Draco.

"So… dirty." He buried his face in his hands and when he spoke again, it was clear he was sobbing. "I can't do it anymore. Please, don't make me!"

"Of course not, my boy. You will certainly be held protected." Blaise heard the quiet waver in his voice, and suddenly he realised how utterly screwed up their lives were.

Dumbledore allowed a few moments for the two students to compose themselves and dry their tears. Blaise remained stoic as ever, and seemed to be startled when the Headmaster addressed him. "And what are you here for Master Zabini? Correct me, but I believe you are here for more than just support?"

Blaise nodded, but was unable to form any coherent thoughts. He looked over toward Draco, and then Hermione, and felt as if he may be sick.

Hermione tried to compose herself, but in her overly sensitive state, she nearly began crying again when she saw Blaise struggle. It was such a shock to see this Blaise once again. She had forgotten how little he spoke to people he didn't like… Her heart was dully pleased at the thought; to be one of the few people he felt he could trust. But now it was heart wrenching to see how much he struggled; why had she never seen it? It just seemed so cruel that this eloquent boy was so repressed.

"He needs help too, Headmaster," she choked out. "He is being targeted by Voldemort because he refuses to be recruited. He needs your protection."

Dumbledore nodded. "Certainly. This will be taken care of immediately. Now I suggest all of you return to your rooms. May I suggest that Draco stay within the confines of your rooms, Blaise? After such a shock, I'm sure all of you will find the extra company a comfort." The two Heads nodded, and the Headmaster looked relieved. "Well, in light of all this, there is much to be planned. Please return to your rooms and I will have you called in for a meeting when things have been arranged. Until then I request that you do not go out of the boundaries of Hogwarts nor go anywhere alone."

The three teens stumbled out of the office, drained of emotions and energy. No one said a word as they trudged down the hallways, no one sure if they would make it back to the rooms or whether they would just collapse and never wake up.

After what seemed like hours of walking, the exhausted group saw a small bench. All three unconsciously headed first.

Hermione sat down first, tugging Blaise down beside her; surprisingly, Draco on her other side. Blaise nearly collapsed onto the bench, and as Hermione rested her hand on his thigh she could feel that his whole body was trembling. She scooted closer to him, and the intimacy seemed to break down whatever barriers the boy had. His body began to wrack with heart wrenching sobs, and Hermione felt her heart breaking for the boy as his face burrowed into her neck. He held her hand as if it were his only lifeline.

And perhaps it was.

* * *

Wow. Ok. So I am totally shocked at how this story is progressing. Well, not really, as this is exactly how it was supposed to turn out, but still! I didn't know that my characters would get so emotional. Especially Draco. Well, I can just hope that he'll turn out alright. So yeah, once again, sorry for the long wait. The next chapter should be up within a few weeks (or a month), and let me warn you that this story is nearing its end. So keep on keeping on!

And of course, **review**!


	10. Chapter 10

First off, I'm sorry about the initial chapter... That was me just kidding. I realised that I had left a few important things out, so that's why there are apparently two chapter tens. Anyway... On with the show.

Well, well. Here we are once again (and without too much delay)! I was a little surprised by the lack of input from the last chapter, though I would love to thank my _four_ faithful reviewers who really made that chapter worth it after initially getting no input. So a HUGE thanks to **Rum-Running-Rachel**, **Roni**, **fierysoulgirl**, and **M. Alba** who all left the most wonderful reviews! This is dedicated to you!

Anyway… this chapter is going to be lots of fun, although I'm definitely feeling bad for my poor characters. Gone are the days of simple character development and semi-peace they've been having. So with that I leave you with this…

**-----**

**Division**

Mnemosynesque

Summary: Life's gotten more dangerous day by day, and unfairly the burden of war has been placed on the shoulders of youth. Hermione and Blaise (now joined with a reluctant Draco) struggle to maintain daily life while dealing with all of this, but too soon this tenuous balance will break and imperil the lives of our heroes. A sad, but necessary, fact of war is that not everyone will make it through.

Rating: PG-13 still.

Disclaimer: Some things in life are simply unattainable. This would be one of them, unfortunately. This is J. K. Rowling's. I haven't got a chance of owning it, so screw you.

------

**Chapter Ten: Do not kill/The spirit of love with a perpetual dullness**

_Sweet love, renew thy force; be it not said**  
**Thy edge should blunter be than appetite,  
Which but to-day by feeding is allay'd,  
To-morrow sharpen'd in his former might:  
So, love, be thou; although to-day thou fill  
Thy hungry eyes even till they wink with fullness,  
To-morrow see again, and do not kill  
The spirit of love with a perpetual dullness.  
Let this sad interim like the ocean be  
Which parts the shore, where two contracted new  
Come daily to the banks, that, when they see  
Return of love, more blest may be the view;  
Else call it winter, which being full of care  
Makes summer's welcome thrice more wish'd, more rare._

Hermione sighed as she read the last words of the sonnet. Day by day, the pressures of war had gotten more oppressive and Hermione had, of course, taken to books as her comfort. She was currently making her way through Shakespeare's sonnets, a book which she had been reading on and off throughout the year. Each time she read, it both soothed and frightened her. Too often the poems had hit too close to home for her, almost as if Shakespeare had written them for her life, and not his own.

Stretching her arms above her head, she caught sight of the two boys diligently working on some Charms work that she had finished days ago, and smiled slightly. It was nearly a week since they had all gone to see Dumbledore and Draco had not yet left. She suspected that it was because something had happened in the Slytherin dorms but she, of course, would never dare to ask him.

She supposed she was happy enough to have him here. Certainly Blaise seemed much happier to have his old friend back once again, and she didn't mind him (nor did he mind her as much when he saw she was not just a third of the Golden Trio). Plus, it gave her less to worry about if she could keep an eye on him most of the time because – somehow – she had grown somewhat attached to the blonde, painfully thin boy across the room.

She supposed it was mostly because of the night after the meeting with the Dumbledore, and the safe feeling she had woken with as she found herself with the two boys.

_Somehow they had made it back to the Heads' common room, each filled with a deep and enduring exhaustion from the meeting. Hermione felt herself being led to the couch and firmly ensconced between the two Slytherin boys. Somehow after she had comforted Blaise in the hall their roles had reversed, and the two boys were now taking care of her. She didn't mind though; it was just like being with Harry and Ron, but without the nagging._

_But she would never tell them that, of course. _

_She closed her eyes and felt herself drifting off almost immediately, but not before she felt someone pull a blanket over her and wrap a strong arm around her shivering shoulders. She sighed gratefully, and it seemed that both Blaise and Draco were brought out of a trance with her soft sound. After a few minutes, Blaise bent down and checked on the girl between them. Finding her asleep, he pulled her closer to him and looked over at Draco who, after coming to his senses, had scooted to the far end of the couch. "It'll be better this way, right Draco?"_

"_Of course it will," the blonde replied fiercely, obviously believing it. "It can't be any other way." He sighed, seeming to lose what little energy he had left. "Damn, it's bloody cold in here." He ignored the crackling of the fire, not willing to acknowledge that it was something deeper than just a chill in the air that was making him so cold._

"_Come closer then. Share the blanket with us." Seeing the doubtful look on the pale boy's face, Blaise sighed. "Now's not the time for any qualms. I know she won't mind and you did just sell your soul to Dumbledore." Blaise smiled slightly, as if he had made a joke that only he could understand. _

"_It's not that… It's just…"_

"_I know. Don't worry." And he did know._

_It was the archaic rules of Pureblood society that outlawed familiarity and anything that could be construed as friendship. People were to be used as pawns for gain, no more. This sort of… bonding was strictly prohibited and Draco Malfoy came from a family that never deviated from the acceptable._

_Draco scooted back over towards the two and, with a lingering sight and a great deal of dark muttering, managed to get under the blanket and curl up with the two. _

_That was how the three had woken up in the late hours of the next morning. It was a fleeting moment of comfort for the students and none had mentioned it again, for fear that their tenuous bonds of friendship would not be able to stand it._

And, strange as it was, they _did_ have some sort of friendship. Of course it never went out of these rooms; she, Harry, and Ron were just as friendly and the two boys never suspected a thing. But then again, why would they? It was such a fantastic thing it could not be believed.

She looked up and saw that she had about ten minutes until ten. That left her about five minutes to get to the front gate to meet up with Harry and Ron before going to Hogsmeade. Normally she and Blaise would have to do the checking out, but for added security the administration had chosen Professors McGonagall and Flitwick to stand at the gates today. Hermione had scowled when told that (and Blaise had laughed at her). Of course she was angered that they didn't think they were up to it!

As Draco had so snidely remarked, "Only you, Granger, would be upset that you didn't have to do extra work."

She supposed that this increasing security was due to the increased Death Eater activity, but also suspected it was for the protection of the two Slytherin boys she had come to want to protect. Either way, many rules were being reined in. At least they were still able to go to Hogsmeade, but there would (of course) be a great deal more security there. She had heard through Ron and Harry that Remus and Tonks would probably be there, along with many other Auror/Order members.

Shaking her head and returning herself to the present, Hermione stood from the couch. She grabbed her scarf and shrugged on her coat. She ignored the inquisitive looks of the two boys and instead tossed behind, "I'm off to go to Hogsmeade."

"See you there," shouted Blaise as she walked through the portrait hole. She last saw him getting elbowed by Draco, probably for his response to her.

She made her way quickly to the front gates. She was, of course, there early and Harry and Ron were nowhere to be seen. However after a quick hello to a sixth year Ravenclaw she knew from D.A. Harry and Ron had managed their way to her side.

"Guess who?" Harry slung a long arm around her and hugged her tight while Ron stood to the side, grinning cheerfully. "Sorry we're late," Harry continued, "but Ron here thought it necessary to stick his tongue down Lavender's throat for a few extra minutes before we left."

Hermione and Ron shouted, "Harry!"

"I did NOT want to know that," griped Hermione while a crimson Ron said, "Was that _really _necessary, Harry?"

"I felt it really was, Hermione!"

"As happy as I am for you and Lavender, I NEVER want to hear anything about that again you two!" Hermione shuddered at the thought of her best friend and the loud girl she had never really liked. Of course, she kept that to herself.

"Hey! It's not like I was the one to bring it up. It was that four eyed bastard!" Ron laughed as Harry tried to swat him with his free arm. Harry laughed as he nearly pulled Hermione and himself over into the snow with his rambunctious efforts. Finished with the two immature boys, Hermione pulled away from him and made her way toward the gates, trying to erase any images of the Ron – Lavender snog fest that was running through her poor, tormented brain. Harry and Ron followed not far behind and the three joked back and forth all the way to the town of Hogsmeade.

"Brr, it's a little cold today, isn't it?" Ron shivered and pulled his threadbare cloak further around his lanky body.

"You're such a smart kid, Ron!" Ron ducked and yelped as Hermione made to ruffle his already unruly hair. She giggled as he sprinted just far enough to be out of her range.

"Oh, knock it off you two," said Harry good naturedly as the three friends stepped into Honeydukes. "Come on Ron, we need to restock our stores for the room." With that the two boys swept off, shoving aside the younger children when necessary. Hermione shook her head and did not follow; her Muggle dentist parents' rules had been firmly ingrained in her head.

Instead she sat herself on the empty bench at the front of the store. From here she could see outside and watch the excited students of Hogwarts filter through the small town. She shivered as she felt a cold draft of air run down her back, undoubtedly from the small crack under the door. She was shaken from her contemplations by a small commotion outside that turned out to be Draco and Blaise engaged in what seemed to be a vicious snowball fight with a few sixth year Slytherin boys she could not identify. Off to the side was a pale man that – with a start – she realised was Remus under some sort of appearance altering charm. Knowing he could not see her, she returned to watching the young boys play.

They were all laughing loudly, able to be heard through the thick glass of the Honeydukes window. This continued for a few minutes before the boys seemed to exhaust themselves and they all began to walk the lonely path towards the Shrieking Shack, their breath curling behind them in the cold air. She watched them until they were out of sight and finally turned around when she felt a tap on her back. It was Harry, laden with packages of tooth destroying goods.

"What are you smiling about?"

"Oh nothing Harry, I just saw something sort of funny." She smiled up at the two boys and allowed herself to be led to their next destination, wherever that was.

"It's good to see you smile Hermione," said Ron. Harry nodded in silent agreement.

She blushed. "Nonsense. I smile enough."

The two boys rolled their eyes, obviously thinking something else, but refused to argue with the hot headed witch. After all, in the end, she would win. After living with the bloody woman for nearly seven years, they had learned this the hard way.

The rest of the day continued pleasantly until Hermione found herself sprawled across "her" much neglected couch in the Gryffindor Common Room with Ron and Harry sitting in two chairs across from her.

"What time is it?" She hoped it wasn't time to go back yet, she was having such a good time with her friends and the fire's soothing warmth was lulling her into a near sleep state.

"It's nearly ten. Why?"

Hermione sighed and sat up. "I have to get back to my rooms then. Since security has been tightened around the school even I have to answer to curfew." As much as Hermione Granger was a stickler for rules, it had been nice to be able to go about the halls late into the night with no worry of being caught. Plus, it had filled her with pride that she was trusted to not abuse that power, which of course she would never do.

Ron looked mutinous, but merely stood up and gave her a hug. "Need us to walk you there?"

"No, that's okay. You'd never make it back in time and I'm fine."

Harry hugged her as well and then she was on her way.

As she told the boys, she had made it back fine and just in time to make curfew. Expecting to see Blaise and Draco taking up an inordinate amount of space with their long bodies and legs, she was surprised with the opposite.

"Curious," she muttered to herself, refusing to let herself become nervous. They were probably just going to come in right at curfew, laughing at their daring. However that had passed… five minutes ago. She jogged up the stairs to Blaise's room, just to make sure they weren't there – they weren't.

Becoming more and more panicked as she tried to stifle it down more and more, Hermione returned downstairs and plopped on a couch, deciding to wait for them and giving them a scolding as soon as they returned. In the meantime, she reached for the closest book, which turned out to be the book of sonnets. Opening it she turned to the poem she had been reading in the early morning.

_Let this sad interim like the ocean be/Which parts the shore, where two contracted new/Come daily to the banks…_

Chills ran down her spine and she tossed the book aside, refusing to think of a "sad interim" while Blaise and Draco were not here. She forced herself to close her eyes and relax as she waited for the duo, which was sure to return in just a few minutes…

_The echoes of footsteps were closing in on them…_

_Suddenly the door flew open, revealing a furious Bellatrix Lestrange. Her black hair frizzed wildly around her pale face and her dark eyes looked madder than usual. _

"_Aunt Bella. What a surprise." Draco was able to keep his voice strong, but inside he was quaking. He, of all people, knew what his aunt was capable of._

"_Be silent, boy! You two saw it fit to betray your Lord? I could expect that from you, Master Zabini. Your whole family is a useless lot; why the Dark Lord would pursue you for so long, I don't know, but I do not question the mind of my Lord. I merely serve as a humble servant, unlike you," she spat at Blaise, seemingly holding herself back. It was clear she wished to attack him right there, but managed to restrain herself. After a few moments she turned toward her defiant nephew. "But as for you, Draco Malfoy, to betray the Dark Lord was unthinkable! You went to that old fool Dumbledore for help. Ha! What a laugh that is. You thought that idiot could protect you? The Lord is much to wise and powerful for that fool, no matter what the Light say. Yes, yes indeed, it was such a surprise to hear this certain news. But here we three are. Well, what is to be done must be done."_

"_Aunt Bella," Draco started once again, but was silenced with a wave of Bellatrix's wand._

"_Shut up, Draco. I thought you would be useful, but I was wrong. You have greatly disrespected the Dark Lord and you must suffer. It was originally only you planned for this little, ah, adventure, but since your little friend here came along, it seems he will have to be dealt with." At this she leaned forward with a predatory gleam in her eye, as if she wished to tear him limb from limb. Which, he thought morosely, she probably would._

_Blaise remained silent through the exchange, realising he could do nothing but wait for his end. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Draco begin to rise and clutch for the wand that was not there but was quickly thrown backwards into the wall with a silent curse from his aunt._

"_Now for you," she hissed, a thin tongue darting over her pale as death lips. "Crucio!"_

Hermione's eyes flew open as the dream – no, nightmare – abruptly ended.

Her body jerked upwards and she flew up the stairs, yanking the door off of its hinges. "Blaise?" she heard herself yell. "Draco?" Her voice became shriller each time she yelled for one of the boys, but as she ran through their space, her worst fear was confirmed: they were not there. With each passing second she was more and more sure that they had been taken by the Death Eaters, tortured, killed – no! She mustn't think of it. Holding back tears, she forced herself to stop panicking and just think. Finally, a ration thought broke through her mind: she had to find Dumbledore.

She tore back down the steps and out of her rooms, certain now that something was seriously wrong. She reached Dumbledore's office severely out of breath, but managed to gasp out "Baby Ruth." Dumbledore had recently taken to a great deal of Muggle candy.

She rushed up the stairs and entered the office, cursing her lack of exercise. Luckily Dumbledore was at his desk, reading over papers as she entered his office. He looked up, immediately worried by her heavy breathing and the terrified expression on her face.

"Please sit down Miss Granger." He pushed forward his customary offering of lemon drops and she shook her head, finally regaining composure as she too a seat. "Now what seems to be the problem?"

"Blaise and Draco are missing! I stayed up to wait for them because they were out past curfew and never came home from Hogsmeade, but then I fell asleep and when I woke up they weren't there so I came here. Oh! I had a terrible dream and they were in a small cell and they were going to be tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange! I'm afraid it's a vision and that it might be true!" She realised she was babbling, and stopped herself, trying to retain her composure in front of the Headmaster.

"That is most curious Miss Granger, for I was told that everyone had returned from Hogsmeade. You are almost certain they didn't return?" She nodded her head, not knowing how she knew, just that she did. "Well, let us clear up this matter at once." He pulled an old scrap of parchment out which she quickly realised to be the Marauder's Map. Not even bothering to wonder where he had gotten it, she watched in nervous anticipation as he perused the map. He sighed heavily as he closed the map. "You appear to be correct, Miss Granger. They are nowhere to be found on the grounds of Hogwarts."

Hermione whimpered, her mind racing towards all sorts of horrible possibilities. "What can we do?"

Dumbledore suddenly looked years older at the realization that two of his students were probably in grave danger. "Let me fetch Professor Snape, their Head of House." With this he stood and strode to his fireplace tossing in a bit of floo powder and saying "Professor Snape's Quarters." He had a quick, muffled conversation and then returned to his desk, Snape appearing out of the fire directly behind him.

"You say they did not return from Hogsmeade?"

Hermione refused to be cowed by the tall man before her, and returned in a fairly steady voice, "No, sir. Though I don't know this for sure, I have a strong feeling that they did not." She also quickly recounted her dream to the man, who seemed to be getting paler by the moment. "Oh, the last time I saw them they were having a snowball fight with some sixth year Slytherins in front of Honeydukes and then they all went off towards the Shrieking Shack. I don't know what happened after that."

"Who were these two Slytherins?" Snape asked tightly.

"I don't know their names, sir."

"Could you describe them for us, Miss Granger?" The Headmaster's voice served to sooth her only very little.

She did, though, describe them and was frightened to see a look of definite worry cross both the Professors' faces. "What? What is it?"

"Those two are both seventeen and therefore of age. They have most certainly taken the mark. They only rarely interact with Draco or Blaise, and this coupled with the fact that they were the last ones seen with them and the fact of your dream… It is almost definite that Draco and Blaise have been taken by Death Eaters."

Hermione began to cry in earnest at this point, just realising the importance of these boys in her life. However strange it seemed, it was fact, and now they were gone. Over her head, Dumbledore and Snape continued their hurried talks.

"They must have faked Blaise and Draco reentering the school somehow. It would not be out of the question that they used a potion, probably Polyjuice," snapped Professor Snape, clearly disgusted by his two charged.

Dumbledore sighed heavily. "That is certainly very possible, Severus. The only course of action now is to find where they are. Hopefully we may be able to send out a raid by tomorrow."

"But tomorrow is the day Blaise and I were to do our Runes project!" It was idiotic even to her ears, but Dumbledore and Snape seemed to realise that it was the only thought she would allow to surface.

"Miss Granger," Snape started in a softer voice than she could ever imagine him using. It seemed he was rather shocked at the upset she felt at their disappearance. "Miss Granger," he repeated, "you must not fret. You must stay strong and tell us all you can about this dream. We must find these boys and save them before it will be too late."

Professor McGonagall suddenly burst in the door. Hermione had been unaware of any signal sent to her, but it had probably gone over her head as she had wept. The Professor immediately sat in the chair next to Hermione and looked up at Severus Snape.

"Have you any idea where they might be, Severus?"

"I believe so. As you know, Dunluce Castle is an old castle in Northern Ireland, which was owned by a Muggle family until around the 1700s. It was purported to be ruined, but of course that was only for Muggles. After the Muggle family was forced to abandon it due to monetary ruin, the noble house of Black took it over. I believe that Stewart Black was the first owner, but that is irrelevant. Anyhow, it has been passed down in the Black family for years and somehow Bellatrix came into possession of Dunluce. She, the mad fanatic she is, handed it over to the Dark Lord for use at his discretion."

McGonagall connected the facts. "This is the castle you have been speaking about? The one with all the recent activity?"

Snape threw a glare towards Hermione, clearly intimating that he thought she ought not to be there. However, seeing she was not to be moved, he nodded and continued. "That one indeed. And, if Hermione's dream is indeed correct, I believe they are being held in one of the towers of the gatehouse, both of which have small, cell like rooms that the sentries used to sleep in when not on guard. Lord Voldemort has been known to use these as cells, and Miss Granger's description seems spot on."

"Very well, Severus. Thank you for this very useful information. Now we must plot our course of action." At this he looked piercingly at Hermione. "Could I persuade you to return to your rooms and wait there?"

"No!" She seemed to surprise even herself with this outburst, but she refused to take it back. She was the one who discovered they were gone, she was worried about them, she was their… friend. She needed to be here. "No sir, I mean. But I cannot. I will help all that I can; even if that is not at all, I will remain."

McGonagall looked at her with something akin to pride. "Very well, Miss Granger. It is entirely your decision."

"Severus, would you alert the Aurors? There is much work to be done tonight."

-----

Not too far off, two boys sat side by side in a small, dark room unsure about their futures. They had been there for hours but neither could make a guess about how long it actually was. Suddenly…

_The echoes of footsteps were closing in on them…_


End file.
